What if
by Annie Wilde
Summary: If Char had run after Ella after Hattie ripped off her mask, what would have happened? Ella's perfect night was ruined, but soon she realises so much more is at stake... Never before has she needed help so much as she does now.
1. Chapter 1

**Here's the first chapter, guys. Hope you like it! Review, please, if you want me to carry on. By the way, this **_**will**_** be a Char-and -Ella story. I am not masochistic or sadist. Oh, and sadly I don't own Ella Enchanted; it belongs completely to the genius that is Gail Carson Levine. **

'_Ella!' Hattie shrieked._

_Char gasped, 'Ella?'_

I broke away from him and ran into the night. I had endangered Kyrria, and Char, _again! _How did this happen? I ran faster, sprinting down the palace path to the gates, kicking off my slippers. Through the haze of panic, I could hear Hattie and Char – it sounded like Hattie had tried to hold him, and Char had broken free. My ball gown was burdening me. As I was running I tore at it, and it fell off me, leaving only a simple white cotton dress underneath. I had no time to mourn the loss of the beautiful garment. I had problems of my own.

Unburdened by my dress, I made it out of the gates, but could hear rapid footsteps behind me.

Char was chasing me! He was much more athletic than I was, and he would probably catch me in a moment. I changed direction, running for the woods. I knew my way round them, and it was the perfect way to lose him. A small part of my brain screamed at me, _I didn't want to lose him!_

I put it to one side, and ran for the trees, but I could hear him coming closer, calling my name. He was less than ten feet away. I made it inside the cover of the pines, knowing I wouldn't make it. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, and ran, if possible, faster.

A hand grabbed my wrist, jerking me to a stop so fiercely that I would have fallen to the ground if Char hadn't caught me and held me against him. I looked away, striving pointlessly to break free. We were like that for seconds, or minutes, or hours until I gradually stopped struggling and went limp in his arms. I was vividly aware, even in a moment like this, of his arms around me.

'Ella?' he whispered. I said nothing. 'Ella, talk to me.' An order. It was pointless fighting.

'Hello, Char.' I murmured, my face still turned away. His hand released my wrist, and turned my face to look at him. I stared into his face – how could I give him up again? He didn't speak for a few minutes. Maybe he had nothing to say. Then,

'Why were you at the ball?' Ah, questions, questions. I knew we couldn't get married. It was impossible . . . because of me. I racked my brains for a suitable excuse. I settled on the simplest one.

'I wanted to see you.'

'Why?'

'We're friends. Aren't we?' I asked. _Were _we still friends? His expression was unreadable.

'Did my letter reach you?' He asked abruptly, his face suddenly hard, quite unlike him.

'I'm sorry?'

'My, ah, latest letter, did it get to you?' It looked as though he was blushing, and my heart went out to him.

'Erm, the latest one?' I asked, though it hurt.

'You ... you _didn't _get it?' His eyes widened, and dropped his arms seemingly unconsciously. No! Why did he do that? This was getting harder.

'I didn't get anything unusual,' I lied through my teeth.

'Oh . . .' He trailed off, lost for words. I realized that, if I was going to pull this off, I was going to have to act more like me.

'Why? What did you send? Was it something important?' I asked, my words sounding desperate, even to myself. He just looked at me, unable to frame a comprehensible sentence. Eventually he pulled himself together and studied his boots.

That was when I took my chance. I ran, hurtling myself into the forest so quickly that I could hide before Char caught up with me. I was concealed in a hollowed out log, my head and feet tucked in as far as they could go, but I could still see out of a hole in the rotting wood. Char ran forwards, spinning around in circles, his hand pulling at his hair.

'Ella!' he cried, his voice echoing through the forest. '_Ella!'_

Eventually he left, and I waited longer still before I cautiously wriggled out of my log and ran. I reached the house, but stopped, just undercover of the trees that bordered them. I could see them. Char and three of his knights were at the house. How was I supposed to pack now; I needed to pack. I couldn't stay here. I'd thought about it, while in the log. I would try to find Areida, and hopefully she would help me get along until I could find work. Aside from that, I could always find work elsewhere. I needed to be away from here, however. Char would search for me; I knew him well enough for that, and I couldn't let him find me. Kyrria was so much better off without me, I though grimly. Maybe if I waited, they would leave? I sat down on the grass. It was going to be a long night.

They left a few hours later, but I knew that some would stay. I didn't see Char leave; only two knights left; Aubrey and Bertram. Stephan and Char were still at the house.

When it was about five in the morning, I knew it was about time to make my move. I snuck in through the back door, and let myself in to the servant's quarters. When I arrived at my room, I stopped dead. Char was _right outside the room! _Asleep, however. I knew I wouldn't be able to get in to my room without waking him up, as he was leaning against the door. But I did know something that they didn't.

My room was connected to Nancy's, which was next door, by a cupboard in the corner of her room. I had discovered this when Mum Olga had insisted, to Hattie's delight, that I clean and tidy all the servants' rooms. I had opened the cupboard to stash some of Nancy's (considerable) mess, and in doing so, had accidentally knocked out one of the wide, rotting boards at the back. I had propped it up again, but it would be simple to enter in that way – the hole was big enough to fit me, just about.

I quietly let myself into Nancy's room, taking care not to wake her, but the care probably wasn't needed as she was snoring so loudly that it would have taken an ogre to wake her. I crept towards the cupboard and opened it, wincing at every creak it made. Sneaking into it, I removed the board and crawled into my room. I grabbed my leather satchel and crammed my clean clothes, fairy-made book, ink, paper a pen into it.

I also packed my boot, removing my slippers; I didn't notice until I took them off that they had rubbed my skin raw while I was running. I slipped out of Nancy's room and crept over Char, hesitating. Then, after a moment of deliberation, I placed the slippers next to him and left.

I'd know when Char woke up. I was just out of the gardens, when I did. A yell sounded out from the house. I brushed a few tears out of my eyes, and ran.

**Good? Any requests? Review and let me know. Thanks to Lizzy, too, for inspiring me to get off my backside and write something. For the Twilight maniacs out there, read her fan fiction, 'Warped Twilight'. It's seriously good, trust me.**


	2. Really not cut out for this

**Thanks for the non-existent reviews, guys. My writing will speed up if I get more.**

I managed to travel, walking and running intermittently, for about four hours before I was utterly exhausted and could manage no further. I found myself a place to lie down under a tree, and fell asleep almost immediately.

My dreams were clouded and troubled, haunted by images of Char's face, then Hattie's and Olives and Father's and Mother's and Mandy's and Mum Olga's until I woke, every part of me aching, wishing no more than to never move from this spot again. I lay back and stared at the pink morning sky, my back resting against the tree. Everything around me, including myself was soaked in dew. I got up and stretched, but just as soon wished I hadn't. My arms were throbbing, as was the rest of me. I sighed and, after looking around carefully, changed into a dry and more practical dress. I stood up, and took the first few steps. Oh, my god, it was like walking on nails! I gritted my teeth, and headed on, ignoring the pain my legs were causing me.

After about ten minutes of agonisingly short progress, I stopped to sit down. An idea struck me.

I got out my magic book, and flipped straight to a picture of Mandy. She was arguing with someone that looked remarkably like Char, but from the back. The look on her face was sympathetic, but firm and slightly annoyed. They were in the kitchen. I soaked up every last detail of the picture. Mandy's fingers were white with flour, and I could see a half-kneaded lump of bread dough on the surface behind her. One of Char's hands was running through his hair, and his shoulders were slumped. Mandy's eyes were ringed in grey, like she had barely slept.

Well, I thought dryly, if that was what she looked like, what kind of a monster would I look? Something caught my eye from the corner of the picture, in Char's hand. It was a pair of glass slippers. I snapped the book shut, but regretting it in the same moment. I opened it again, hoping to see the same picture, but instead seeing a lot of neat, rounded writing. Char's journal!

I hesitated, my finger on the first line of text. Although I had read Char's diary before, it felt somehow wrong now. As though I had no right to see what was in it any more. But however immoral the idea seemed to me, it was simply irresistible. I wanted – needed – to see what he felt. To see whether he hated me yet. Whether he was trying to find me, or whether he would do the right thing for himself and Kyrria, and let me go. I banished all of these thoughts, and read the entry.

_I don't understand! It turns out that Lela, the only friend I had at the ball, was actually Ella in a mask. Why? I was dancing with her, and everything was perfect, but then her idiotic (harsh, maybe) step sister snatched off her mask. And she ran. Why did she run? I could see that she wasn't married – she had no ring, and her dress, although fine, was hardly expensive looking, which wouldn't correspond to being married to a wealthy man._

_When she ran, I thought at first it was to get out of earshot of Hattie, so I tried to run after her, but Hattie tried to stop me! I am truly ashamed to say that I saw red. I called her a rather un-prince- like name and broke free. But Ella never stopped running. She was running from _me._ I caught her. I asked her why she was at the ball, and she said she'd wanted to see me. But it still posed the same question. Why would she run? Then she said she'd never gotten my letter. That shocked me – whose hands had it fallen into? That could explain everything. If my letter had fallen into jealous hands (naming no names, Hattie) that could explain the note I had received. _

_As I was silent and thinking, she ran again. I wasn't expecting it. I lost her. She was hiding. I could have found her, but I didn't try. She didn't want to be found. I regret it now. I need answers, and she can give them to me. I am outside her room at the moment, waiting for her to return. I mustn't fall asleep. But even if I did, she couldn't get in without waking me up, as I am leaning against the door. _

The entry ended there. I shut the book again. Maybe Mandy would write to me, later. I imagined that she would be very busy, what with my disappearing and whatnot. I wondered what the argument was about.

I got up again, and groaned, once more reminded of the pain in my legs. I had not done anything this demanding before. Ignoring it, I walked on again, this time not stopping where I would have stopped before. My legs were soon killing me, yet I continued on my way, eventually losing track of where I was, losing track of time, losing track of everything aside from the flaring in my legs every time I took a step. Yet I kept taking them. I walked on, and on, and _on._ I knew I was going to pass out, but it was as if someone had ordered me to continue.

I _had _to continue, I thought desperately. My vision was blackening, there was nothing I could do but stagger onwards. I heard a voice. Maybe it was in my head. Oh, wonderful, I thought. I was now delusional. The rough twig strewn ground swirled up to meet me, and the last thing I was conscious of were hands grabbing my lapels and pulling me forward.

**Yes! Second chapter finished. Seriously, please review, it would be nice to know that **_**someone **_**is reading this.**


	3. Emlyn

**And another! I'm on a roll here. Two chapters in one day! Hope you like it.**

I became gradually conscious again, though wished I wasn't. If I'd ached before, it was nothing to what I felt now. I didn't hurt, no, but it was worse. I was completely numb. I had no sense of where I began or ended, I could be cut in half and I wouldn't know. I was stranded in the dark. I imagined what had happened. The possibilities were horrifying.  
I could have died, I realized in a moment of terror. Maybe this was what death felt like. Stuck like this forever? No. No, that couldn't be, I tried to reassure myself. Death couldn't be like this. There was a humming noise in the background. I could hear! I clung to it, listening harder, until I realised it was the sound of somebody talking. I then heard words. Then sentences. Then I understood what they were saying.  
'Come on, try to wake up, you fool.' They could have called me the worst name imaginable, and I wouldn't have cared; I was so relieved to hear a human voice. Well, it sounded human. 'Come on, if you stay asleep much longer you won't wake up.' Yes, definitely human. Male, too. Then the words hit me. I wouldn't wake up? I strained, trying to feel, trying to open my eyes. 'That's it. Concentrate.' The voice was strangely soothing. An odd accent, not one I had heard before.  
Then I felt the ground. It was cool and pleasant. Then I felt my legs. I cried out, they were unbelievably sore. 'There, that's good, believe it or not.' The voice told me.  
Then my eyes opened. I couldn't make out what was around me; it was all just a blur. I could see greens and browns and greys all melded together. Then I could see a figure bending over me. I tried to speak to him; to ask him who he was, but my words came out as mush. 'Hello.' Said the someone. I forced my vision to clear. The man standing over me was black haired and was staring at me intently with deep blue eyes. 'You'll just embarrass yourself trying to talk.' He advised; one corner of his mouth lifting. He helped me to sit up, and fed with the soup-like brew that was on the campfire. It felt refreshing and I was ravenous.  
When I felt I could speak, I croaked, 'who are you?'  
'I'm Emlyn. Pleased to meet you. You are?'  
'Ella. Ella of Frell.' I looked at him again. He was about two years older than me – maybe eighteen. I looked around me. I was in a camp, it seemed. There was a tent-like construction to my left, and something was brewing on a campfire behind Emlyn.  
'Should I know who you are?' He asked, half a smile hovering around his mouth.  
'No.' I looked at him, eyebrows raised.  
'Then why are you running from the prince of Kyrria?'  
I gaped at him. How could he possibly... 'How do you . . .'  
'Logic. You're obviously not prepared for this life – look at you, half dead from exhaustion – but you were once well cared for, probably a year ago. You're not a thief; I get the idea that you're quite moral. You're not a traveller; you'd know where you were going. The only other option is that you're running away, and on a split second decision. As for the prince of Kyrria, you talk in your sleep.'  
I gaped at him. 'I do not!'  
'Quite a few people do when they're as ill as you.'  
'But I don't!'  
'"Char, Char, I'm sorry"?'  
'That could be anyone!'  
'Do you know any other people called Char? Anyway, only people close to the prince call him that,' He looked at me curiously. 'So why do you?'  
I diverted the question. 'How do you know I was well cared for until about a year ago?'  
'You are wearing boots that are fashionable and quite expensive, but last year's design. But you're dressed in, frankly, a disaster of an outfit that only servants and less wear, but it's old and too short for you, someone made you wear it, or you wanted to. I think it's probably the first, as your bag has furniture polish for very expensive wood splattered on it. You're a servant, but not by birth.'  
I shook my head, 'How do you figure this out?'  
'I stop and think. But this is beside the point. Why are you running from the prince?' I said nothing. Emlyn sighed.  
'I'm hardly going to tell anyone,' he said gently, 'tell me.' Oh, wonderful, an order. I planned on telling him as little as possible without defying the order, but somehow it all came pouring out. I couldn't tell him about my curse, just that it was dangerous for me to marry Char. It was actually a relief to tell him. To tell _someone._  
When I had finished, Emlyn let out a breath. 'That,' he said, 'is some history.'  
'You believe me?'  
'Have I any reason not to? Why would you lie now, anyway?'  
I was silent for a while. 'Why am I telling you this?' I asked him.  
'I happen to know the answer to that. Because you've bottled it in for so long that it feels good to tell someone, you don't know me, so I can't really judge you, and also you've just been ill.'  
'Your logic is going to get annoying.'  
He laughed, and then said, 'Right, I think you're well enough to move now. I'll leave you at a little inn just half a mile from here.'  
'You're going?' I asked.  
'Well, yes. What else would I do? I'm no saint, Ella of Frell.' And with that, he started to pack up the campfire and the tent, and then before my very eyes, he crammed it all into a tiny pouch, which he hung around his waist.  
'What? How did you do that? I asked, intrigued. He winked at me, 'a fairy trifle. Come.' Of course, I came, my legs burning. He helped me up onto a beautiful mare, and saddled me up, handing me my satchel and book.  
'Is the lady ready?' He asked with mock respect. I stuck my tongue out at him. It was strange how I could bond with someone I'd only just met. Maybe he was just a 'people' person. He chuckled, and led the horse onwards, and out of the trees.

**Is it any good? I will say it again, please review! Oh, and I always imagined Emlyn's accent as English, but with a hint of Irish in it, too. And I also imagined his to look somewhat like Colin Morgan. Google it. Emlyn is not going to fall in love with Ella, by the way. That is just not going to happen.**


	4. Revelations and Posters

Emlyn and I eventually emerged out of the cover of the trees, which was a relief as I was getting slightly claustrophobic.

It was evening, and the sky had turned violet with dusk. My legs still ached, but it wasn't so intense anymore, just like a low humming in the background. Emlyn walked at a pace that never slowed or quickened, just carried on going gently, soothing me. It was very peaceful; occasionally a night bird would hoot in the background, and when this happened, Emlyn would release the reins of the horse, put his hands together and blow through them, making a low hooting sound back at them.

The birds would sometimes call back to him, sometimes not, but I got the distinct impression that they understood everything that passed between them. This happened half a dozen or so times before I broke the silence.

'So,' I said quietly, 'who exactly are you?' He looked at me quizzically, or at least pretending to be so.

'I told you. I'm Emlyn.' He murmured back.

'You know that's not really an answer. A name is a name, nothing more. Who are you; what do you do?'

He smiled, a laugh glimmering behind his eyes. He answered with a question. 'What do you think?'

I thought about it. Everything he did, the way in which he walked, so confident, so self-assured, yet he was in the middle of the forest, and seemed completely at ease with his surroundings. 'I'd say an elf...'

'But I'm not green? Don't judge by appearances, Ella.'

'Isn't that what _you_ do?'

He laughed, and patted the horse on the neck, as it had been startled by the sudden noise. 'Yes, Ella, that is what I do, but not always. For example, just because you have pale skin doesn't necessarily mean that you are not Ayorthaian.'

'Yes, it does.'

'No, I don't think so. You could be adopted, you could be mixed race, and you could have dyed your skin. There are many alternatives. You just have to think everything through logically. Anything is possible unless you can prove it not so.'

'Are you avoiding my original question?'

'No, I'm not an elf. Yes, I am like you.'

'Why don't you live in Frell?'

'Circumstances.'

'And what does that mean?'

Emlyn frowned, 'I've answered your question,' he said mildly, 'so please stop questioning my answer.'

I realised I might have gone a step too far with the questions. What business what his private life to me? 'Sorry.'

'That's fine.'

We walked (well, he walked, I rode) on in silence for about another fifteen minutes, before I saw, in the distance, a thin plume of smoke rising in the distance. 'Is that the place?' I asked Emlyn. He nodded.

I reflected on Emlyn's character as we progressed towards the small inn. He seemed so in touch with nature that I wondered how long it had been since he'd had some human company. 'How do you talk to the owls?' I asked him abruptly.

'I don't.' He seemed surprised at this turn of the conversation.

'Yes, you did, you hooted to them.'

'It's not so hard to figure out what they mean. It's all about the tone. It took a while for me but now it's quite simple to figure out if they're curious, afraid, or content, and so on. It took even longer until I could reply. There aren't any specific words that animals use. At least, none that I know of.'

'Can I ask you something?'

'I imagine that you will, and I have no objection.'

I rolled my eyes, before saying, 'How long have you lived out here?'

He sighed, looking upwards at the sky, for once unable to think of anything to say. 'Sometimes I think I've always been here.' He whispered.

'That long?'

'Four winters.' He murmured roughly. He looked up at the darkening sky and sighed. 'But sometimes it's worth it. I've seen some sights that I would never have dreamed of had I lived in Frell. There are some perks to living wild.' He smirked at me suddenly. 'No, I'm moaning. It's nice to live nowhere. Saving idiotic maiden from death's cruel grasp and so on.' We travelled in some silence for a while before he slowed his pace to a halt. 'Here we are.'

Looking up, I saw to my mingled relief and dismay that we had just reached the inn. It had seemed so far away when I had first sighted it. I dismounted, wobbling a little on landing, and Emlyn led the horse to the door, where he tied it to a large iron hook on the wall beside it. I stumbled over to them, and banged three times with the heavy door knocker. Emlyn came to stand beside me as I did so. After a while, footsteps could be heard on the other side, then the door swung open, and a plump, homely woman was framed in the doorway.

'Emlyn! What a pleasant surprise! I haven't seen you round here for months!'

I raised my eyebrows at him. He ignored me, and addressed the lady before us. 'Hello, Mrs. Houghton. I'm not intruding? It cannot be that late.'

The woman, Mrs. Houghton, raised her eyes to the heavens. 'Of course not; it's barely gone half eight. And who's your lady friend?'

She seemed to look closer at me for a moment, and something flickered in her face. Recognition? Disbelief? Both? But then it was gone, and I though I had imagined it. She turned back to Emlyn, who, in his turn, said, 'She's a lady I found in the woods. She needs shelter . . . you'll take her? I shall pay, of course.'

Delight was eminent in Mrs. Houghton's face. 'Of course I will! And there's no need for you to pay, my dear boy, everything is taken care of.'

Something that looked uncannily like suspicion flashed in Emlyn's face for less than a second. 'You are most kind.' He said, bowing to her. She led me inside, guiding me towards a bathroom.

The next few hours were the best of my very short life. I was bathed, freshly clothed and fed by the kindly old lady, who seemed to want nothing more than to care for me like a daughter. As she put me to bed, the last thing I heard was Emlyn agreeing to stay the night, in a separate room.

I had been asleep for probably no more than a few hours before I was being shaken awake again. I groaned and blearily opened my eyes. Emlyn's frantic face swam in to view in front of me. 'Come on!' He hissed, 'Get up! We need to go.'

I protested feebly, while he wrenched the duvet off me. 'Oi!' I cried, and Emlyn covered my mouth with his hand. I got up automatically, his order holding sway over me. 'Why?'

'You need to get out of here now. I smelled a rat the moment she refused payment, and pampered you like a princess. She's always been mean with her money and lazy as a pig. Then I found _this._' He shoved a piece of parchment in front of my nose. Understanding flared through me like ice. 'That's . . .'

'Yes,' Emlyn agreed. 'It's a wanted poster. One thousand pounds in gold as a reward. And look whose mug is splashed across the front of it?'

My own face stared out at me from the page.


	5. Logic

**Here it is; another one! Enjoy. Oh, and just to verify again, Ella and Emlyn are N-O-T getting together. This was a bit [more] of Ella and Emlyn one to one time. **

I stared at my face, reproduced on the front of the notice. The picture was of me just before my mother died, so I had still been fourteen. I wondered who had gone to all the trouble of painting my face over and over again on various posters. I had no doubt of who'd supplied the picture, but what really bugged me was how Mum Olga had gotten hold of it. Only the royal family had reason and money enough to do this. It seemed that Char would go to any lengths to find me.

Emlyn yanked on my arm. 'Don't get reminiscent on me now! Do that later! This is not the time!'

His voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I grabbed my satchel and pulled my boots on and a cloak on over my nightgown. Emlyn threw himself out of the floor length window in a side-flip.

'_What_? Use the _door!_' I yelled as loudly as I could whisper. He had landed remarkably well, seeing as we were on the first floor, and stared up at me.

'Not a chance – she's leaning against it.' He called, just loudly enough for me to hear it. Thanks to his order not to get reminiscent until later, I couldn't think why that was ironic, thank the heavens. 'Come on!' Emlyn held out his arms, and I stepped through the open window and plummeted down.

He caught me and with an 'oof,' and a sarcastic, 'what did you eat for your dinner?' he set me down and ran to the horse, still tethered to the door, but lying down. Rousing it, he quickly untied it, strapped the saddle in place and climbed on first, holding out his hand to me.

I ran forwards, grabbed his hand and was hauled onto the horse after him. He spurred the poor horse onwards, and away from the inn. I was quite sad to see it go, to be honest; thanks to the owner, I was now clean and lavender smelling, and had had the heartiest meal in quite some time. 'What about Mrs. Houghton?' I asked.

'I paid her the money, and left a note, saying thank you for everything.' He looked at my surprised expression. 'I do plan on going there again, you know. Emma hardly ever gets better oats.'

'Emma?'

'She's the horse.'

'Oh.'

It was a quiet, warm summer's night, and it was hard to stay awake. I held onto Emlyn so I didn't fall off, and closed my eyes, leaning against him, letting the soft vibrations of Emma's hooves on the earthy ground wash through me.

'What about you, then?' I asked him, eyes still closed.

'What do you mean?'

'Are you staying with me?'

An owl hooted from above, but for once, Emlyn did not hoot back. Well, it would have been pretty difficult while holding a horse's reins. There was a peaceful silence radiating through the air. After a few seconds' thought, he replied;

'Yes, I suppose so. I could hardly leave a maiden who was sought after by the law stranded in the middle of the woods, could I?'

The sound of hoof beats changed pitch suddenly, as we entered the forest, and more grassy and leaf strewn ground.

'It must be nice, living wild.'

'It must be nice, living with family.'

'The only family I have is a godmother and a father who cares more for money than me.' I said, with a note of bitterness in my voice.

'Better some family than no family at all.' Emlyn said, a little longingly.

'And a step-mother and two step-sisters that enjoy giving me orders and making me clean every inch of the house every day.'

'You have a point. Why do you agree to these orders? You're not a slave.'

I couldn't answer him. We rode on in silence for a while, and I could almost hear his brain ticking.

I finally said, 'you work things out with logic, don't you?'

There was a pause, and he said gently, 'only the things that can be worked out. I can't figure out everything, Ella.'

I threw caution to the winds. If I couldn't trust the person who had saved my skin twice, then who could I trust? 'Could you work out my secret?'

'Is this a challenge?'

'A request. I can't tell you, but you could work it out!'

'Can't or won't?'

'Physically can't.'

There was silence. 'Because there are no words to describe it? Because you don't know?' He asked, unable to resist the mental trial.

'No and no. I _physically_ can't.'

'If you were to try?'

'I wouldn't be able to get the words out of my mouth.'

He thought for a long while. I tried to relax, and listened to the silence. The more I listened, the more I realised that it was not silence. The rustling of the leaves, the scuttling of nocturnal rodents, all the sounds that I normally never noticed were all near, I just had to listen for them. Was this what Emlyn heard every night?

'I'll think about it. Magic?'

'You're very close, but I can't tell you if you're right.'

'So it is magic. Elf magic?'

'No.'

'Fairy magic?'

'So close that you're not close.'

'_Fairy _magic?'

I said nothing. Emlyn thought for another time.

'Lucinda.' He eventually said.

'She was there when I was born.'

'Is there anything about you that isn't complicated?'

'Very little.'

'A gift that controls what you say...'He seemed to be relishing the task.

'It's not the gift that does that. It's other people.'

'A gift that allows other people to have control over you?'

'Very close.' I said, opening my eyes, and lifting my head from his back, my heart hammering out a frantic beat.

'Obedience.' He said simply.

I shook my head in disbelief. 'How do you do that? That is so unfair.'

He smiled jubilantly. 'Logic.'

'Now you know . . . will you still travel with me?'

He shook his head wearily. 'Are you insane? Of course I'm coming with you! I can't let a cursed young lady walk around free with no one to watch over her. I've got a feeling things will get very interesting around you, Ella of Frell.'

I smiled in relief. 'So are we friends now?'

He appeared to consider me for a moment, then he turned round and beamed at me with the first true happiness I'd ever seen in the short time I'd known him.

'Friends.'

And with that, we became friends.

**Any good? Ideas please, people. And reviews! Lots of reviews! You are the keyboard with which this story is written. Thanks for the reviews! I'm like a little kid at Christmas when I get one, so carry on!**


	6. Won't let sleeping dogs lie

**And another! Sorry about the delay – our modem router (internet thingy) went bust, so we ordered a new one, and it was supposed to arrive yesterday, but it didn't so... here you go. I made it extra long, just for you.**

When we finally stopped to set up camp, I was still half asleep against Emlyn's back. We'd ended up in a pretty glade, with the faint sound of a stream running from somewhere to the far left. Emlyn slid off Emma swiftly, almost making me lose balance and join him, but upside down.

Clumsy with tiredness, I nearly fell again, so he unceremoniously grabbed me around the middle, pulled me from the horse and planted my feet on the ground.

'How do you make the tent?' I asked groggily.

'You mean, "How do _you _make the tent".' Emlyn corrected. 'I'm not going to do all the work while you sit around looking pretty, you know. I'm not that type of person.'

'You can say that again,' I muttered under my breath, then louder, 'so, how do _I _set it up, then?'

He handed me the bag he'd dubbed the 'fairy trifle' and said, 'aim it over there,' he indicated the spot, 'and shake it.'

I did so. Nothing happened. Rolling his eyes, Emlyn took the bag from me, aimed it at the required location and, in a quick, sharp motion, he emptied the bag's contents. My jaw dropped open. The same tent I'd seen when he'd first found me stood, fully erected in the corner of the clearing. A little dishevelled, perhaps, but not too badly the worse for wear considering it had been stored in a bag roughly the size of an apple.

'You have that expression of your face most of the time.' commented Emlyn. 'It's not particularly flattering.'

I shut my mouth. Emlyn scratched his head, 'there's only one tent . . . Hmm . . .'

I was about to offer to sleep outside when there was a crack of thunder from overhead. Emlyn pulled off his cloak, and I noticed that it seemed to be slightly shiny and quite substantial. He then proceeded to drape it over a low horizontal branch, and secured the bottom hem with rocks. Then he pulled a blanket out of his fairy trifle and dropped it on the ground.

'There. I bags the tent.' He said, and with no more thought on the matter, he clambered into the tent and within minutes his breathing slowed and he was asleep.

Bracing myself, I headed for the cloak-tent. It wasn't altogether that bad, though, to be honest. The inside of his cloak was a woollen padding which insulated the 'tent' very well. I pulled the blanket around me, and, just as quick as Emlyn, I fell asleep.

I woke up later that morning, and had my first lie-in in over six months. When I finally scrambled out into the sun-light, I saw Emlyn, cooking something on a small campfire in the middle of the clearing. He looked up when I emerged from the cloak and grinned, 'I'll bet that bed was comfier that the tent was,' he remarked. 'I love that cloak.'

The smell coming from the iron pot over the faire was irresistible, so I went over to it, shivering slightly, as I was still wearing the night dress from Mrs. Houghton.

'I have nothing to wear,' I complained. I only had two dresses, and they are currently in Mrs. Houghton's laundry basket.'

'More like on the way to the Pawnbrokers. I'll lend you something of mine. You can't really object to wearing boy's clothes, unless you'd rather walk around in your pyjamas.'

I paused, then said, 'thanks,' and settled myself next to the fire. He poked at what was in it, and I took a look. Some type of meaty stew was simmering in it.

'Is that rabbit?' I asked.

'Yes. They look cute, but taste better.'

'Why do you . . . I mean, because you're so . . . in touch with nature, how come you eat them?' I poised as delicately as I could. Who knew, this could be touchy subject.

Apparently not.

'Ella, have you ever seen a fox refrain from eating chicks because they look pretty? It's the law of the wild; herbivores eat grass and are eaten by carnivores, and omnivores eat both grass and meat. Besides, why on earth would I give up bacon? Piglets are pretty cute.'

'You wouldn't eat an owl.'

'They taste stringy and disgusting. Here, have some.' He offered me a crudely carved wooden bowl and spooned some stew into it. 'I carved that while you were sleeping. Do all girls need that much kip?'

I took it, slapped at him, being careful not to spill, and tucked in. It was actually delicious

Emlyn delved into the fairy trifle once more, this time pulling a white shirt, brown breeches and a hairbrush. He tossed them to me, saying, 'there's a stream you can wash in just five minute walk that way,' he pointed. Thanking him, I scooped up the clothes and walked in the desired direction. It was a very pretty stream, and it gave a slightly liberating feeling to be there, in the middle of the woods, getting changed. I tied my hair back with a strip of material that I tore off the bottom of my nightgown.

When I returned, Emlyn took a double take in mock astonishment. 'Wow, you actually look good,' he remarked, 'the first girl who can look good in a boy's clothes.'

'I'll take that as a compliment.' I said, and with that, I retrieved my magic book from my bag and flipped it open to a picture of Char riding out on horseback, in a wood. Emlyn looked over my shoulder. 'That guy of yours just won't let sleeping dogs lie, will h-' he broke off suddenly, staring at the picture.

'What?' I inquired anxiously.

'It _could_ be nothing.' He said doubtfully. 'Hang on, I'll be right back.' And he ran into the woods.

'Emlyn!' I yelled. I consoled myself with the fact that he wouldn't leave me in danger. I tried not to add the 'hopefully' to that sentence, and stared at the picture, wondering what Emlyn could have seen in it.

I tried to look at everything logically, like he would have done. It was completely normal. It looked exactly like what it was, like a clump of forest with a horse and rider in it. What could be wrong? I put aside the problem of the picture, and concentrated on the man in it. He would be eighteen now. I traced the outline of his tawny hair, whipped backwards by the wind. I wondered why he hadn't brought any knights with him. He certainly hadn't had a problem with strength in numbers last time.

Quick as he'd promised, Emlyn came hurtling back into the clearing.

'We,' he announced, 'are sunk.'

'Nice to see you're being cheerful.' I commented, 'why?'

'Will you let me see that picture again?'

I handed the book over. He gestured for me to look.

'See?' He pointed at the _trees._

'You want the true answer? No. They're trees, and they're everywhere.'

'_Exactly!'_ he exclaimed. 'They're everywhere. Look around you, now look at the picture.'

I did so. 'Shikes,' I muttered. The scenes were almost identical. 'He's . . . in the same wood as us.' Emlyn nodded. 'But,' I said, 'but, this wood is huge! He's hardly going to be able to stumble on us here – it could be a coincidence that he's in this particular forest.'

'I doubt it. From the look of this, he's just come from the general direction of Mrs. Houghton's inn. I think he must have tracked you down. It can't have been hard – we've been leaving very prominent prints. We'll have to be so much more careful. But we don't have time for this. Hear that?'

I listened. There was the very faint sound of hoof beats. 'Can we outrun him on Emma?'

'No.'

'Can we hide?'

'Not well enough to fool him, given the time he's given us.'

'So we're just going to have to meet him.'

'Yup.'

I looked around desperately. My gaze alighted on Emlyn's fairy-trifle. 'I can hide in that!'

'What? Oh, no no no. That's dangerous. I have no idea what happens to things white they're in there.'

'I don't care – they all come out in one piece, and like you said, we don't have time for this. Give it here.'

He deliberated, and then handed it over. 'Maybe I've gone mad. How depressing.' He muttered under his breath.

I looked at the tiny bag in my hands. How was I supposed to get in? I shoved my hand in, and the world fell apart around me, and I was floating in the blackness. But I was not alone. Objects littered the space around me, pans, books, lanterns – I even think I saw a half eaten jam roll below me. It was terrifying. But then I heard from far away but so close, Emlyn's voice.

'Your majesty.'

'Oh.' Char sounded taken aback, 'It's you. I never thought I'd see you again.'

**Ooooh, cliffy! How do Char and Emlyn know each other? See you next time, on FWI. **_**(That's Fanfiction What If, by the way). **_**Review!**


	7. Solemn Word? Thought not

What had I missed? Emlyn _knew_ Char? Why did he never tell me? Through my inner turmoil (and trying to avoid the previously mentioned jam roll which was floating towwards me) I heard Emlyn answer, 'I hoped not, too.'

Were they enemies? Grudging allies? My imagination was going haywire, but it was halted by the sound of Char's voice when he spoke again. He seemed not to set much store by pleasantries, which surprised me. Char had always been so polite, but by the way he talked to Emlyn, I suspect he didn't think Emlyn deserved much respect.

'Where's Ella?' He demanded coolly, cutting straight to the point.

'Normally,' Emlyn said calmly, 'I'd say I'd never met the girl, but you obviously know that isn't the case. I suppose any fool could have tracked us down, but I didn't think it was necessary to cover our tracks. I thought you'd let it be.'

I grabbed the jam roll, which was now about a foot away and hurled it away from me. After having taken a bite, of course.

Char sounded impatient. I'd never heard him sound like this before. What had Emlyn done? 'I don't have time for your mind games. Tell me where she is.' There was a silence, and I think he was struggling with himself, before saying, '. . . please?'

'She doesn't want to see you.' Emlyn said quietly. 'Why are you so intent on finding her?'

'Who are you, to her?' Char said. 'Does she know who you are? What you did?'

Char had crossed the wrong line. Emlyn's voice was cold when he answered, 'I,' he said composedly, 'am her _friend, actually. _It's none of your business what I've told her or haven't. And I think _she_ could be rational and understand that what I did was entirely honoura-'

'We could have gotten help!' Char shouted.

I was shocked. Never, in the whole time I'd known him, had Char _ever _shouted at _anybody._'

'You would have doomed everyone. Also, it might interest you to know that she can hear you.' Doubt entered his voice, 'at least, I _hope _she can.'

Everyone was speaking in riddles. I wanted out. Not just because of the claustrophobia/agoraphobia that was so crushing inside this strange nothing, but because I wanted to confront them both about what they were hiding from me. And, although I tried not to admit it to myself, I so wanted to talk to Char, face to face.

And, the trifle obeyed me. The whole experience of going in was suddenly reversed, and the darkness shattered around me, and I suddenly found myself back in the clearing, highly disorientated, but otherwise well. Then I felt two pairs of extremely confused eyes staring at me.

'Well,' said Emlyn dryly, 'I think it's safe you're alive. How did you get out of there – did it reject you or something?'

'Ella,' Char breathed. I'd avoided looking at him until now. I didn't want to see his face; the betrayal, the hurt I was sure was there, but when I heard his voice, I just couldn't help myself from turning around to look at him. I answered Emlyn, but kept my eyes on Char's face. 'I wanted to come out.'

___Then I snapped back into the present. 'What are you two on about? Tell me.'_

___Char and I just stared at each other for ages, until Emlyn coughed pointedly. 'I do exist, you know. Save the puppy eyes until you're alone. Very alone. With no one to be sick by watching.' _

___I tried to tear my eyes from his face. Emlyn theatrically took my face and turned it the other way round. 'There. That's not so hard, is it?' _

___What was his problem? 'Tell me what's going on,' I demanded. _

___Char spoke next, his voice slightly hoarse, 'Your . . . your __friend ____never told y-__' ____he began, but Emlyn released my face and cut him off:_

_'__No editorials, please.' _

___Char gave him a look that would make an Allosaur go running for a tissue, and continued, 'He is Emlyn of the Sickness.' _

___**Okay, I kind of did have to add a bit of background history here. Don't kill me, please.**_

_'__What?' I cried, jumping about a foot in the air, 'why didn't you tell me?'_

___The sickness had occurred when I was just twelve. It was a plague that had spread through Kyrria, killing every other person it infected, earning the title, 'the Kyrrian Death. Mandy had of course cooked a batch of healing soup, and distributed it as widely as possible, so we didn't get ill, but many people died. _

___The Royal Family eventually told the people they had a plan to go to other neighbouring countries for help, and that was where a certain fourteen year old boy had stepped in. He'd insisted that the disease was airborne, and was caught from person-to-person. He'd talked to the people, stood in the middle of the Town Square, made people see things his way. _

___Though some hated him for it, they knew he was right. Mandy had been there, and told me all about it. If anyone tried to leave Kyrria, someone would always be watching at the exits. Of course, the Royal Family, not having been at any of Emlyn's speeches, and suffering from 'Pride Issues' as father wryly called them, tried to send knights and messengers to the bordering countries, but they all seemed to mysteriously contract illnesses and insisted they were far too ill to go. _

___Eventually the disease died down, and, once people had recovered and gotten over their losses, they discovered that Emlyn had inexplicably disappeared. They searched for him, but he was never found, and eventually declared dead._

___If everyone was honest with themselves, there were many rumours about the Royals assassinating him, but I didn't believe them. Personally, I always thought that he'd contracted the Kyrrian Death himself, and had been buried along with all the others._

_'__But,' I gasped, 'I thought you were dead! Everyone thought you were dead!'_

_'__And how did they react?' Emlyn asked rhetorically, his voice emotionless. _

_'__They . . .' I trailed off. Come to think of it, father's exact words upon hearing this were: 'If he's dead, that's a blessing in disguise. For him, mostly.'_

___Emlyn read my face easily. 'You see? What choice did I have? I'd have been a leper amongst the people. No one would ever trust me again. Do you know how many people died?'_

___I shook my head silently. _

_'__Three million. But I've never regretted it. You see, many more people could have died, had the palaces orders been carried out.' _

_'__But you were a hero!' I cried, 'everyone respected you! Every other country could have taken you in with honours!' _

_'__I didn't want that!' He shouted, and I took a slight step back. 'I just wanted everything to go back to as it was normally. I wanted to be just __Emlyn____ again, not Emlyn-of-the-Sickness! I wanted to live in Kyrria, in Frell! But, no. Do you remember what the Palace did, after everything was over?'_

___I remembered. But Char cut across him._

_'__Yes, all right! That wasn't my decision. My father-'_

_'__You put out wanted posters for me! Look!' Emlyn snatched the fairy trifle off his belt and shook something into the air, catching it. '__Look.'_

___I took it from his. It was a poster not unlike the one done for me. The caption read, __wanted for questioning about the Kyrrian Death. ____I looked at the picture. Emlyn looked much younger in it. More innocent. His hair was ruffled, and he was looking at the unseen artist with bright, sparkling eyes._

'I – I'm sorry.' I whispered. Everything was explained, now. Emlyn's unwillingness to talk about his past, the years spent living wild. 'But . . . but that was years ago. Couldn't you just . . . just forgive and forget?' I asked them both.

They looked at each other with mutual dislike.

'Bit of a stretch, maybe,' I muttered.

'Anyway,' Char said, his eyes flashing back to me again, 'anyway, that wasn't what I came here for. Ella,' he started.

'Shall I go now?' Emlyn asked. 'Only, I was never one for romantic tales. I have a weak stomach.'

Unable to help myself, I had to smile a little at that one. I couldn't picture Emlyn being romantic at all. But then I was serious again. 'No! Stay. Please.'

'Ella,' he complained, 'I wasn't joking.'

I stretched up to whisper in his ear. 'Could you free me if he tells me to do something?'

He groaned, pulling his hands over his face. 'Do I have your _solemn word _that you won't do something you'll – or I'll – regret?'

I just looked at him.

'Right,' he said grumpily, 'thought not. Go on, then, if you must.'

Taking a deep breath, I turned to face Char.


	8. READ!

**PLEASE READ! I NEED A BIT OF HELP HERE!**

**Hi. Forgot to put a note at the beginning of the chapter **_**again!**_** Anyways, I hoped to clarify a few things here – I know I didn't make things very clear in the last chapter, and I also wanted to reply to all my lovely reviews! So . . . **

**I never actually meant to make Emlyn a bit of a cynic. I suppose I wanted it to be a little funny; things were getting a little heavy.**

**The reason the wanted posters were put up is yet to be revealed . . . **

**I've never heard of **_**the two princesses of Bamarre. **_**Is it good?**

**Oh, and I also need a little help here. Should I make Ella lose her curse here, thus effectively ending the story, or continue? If you want me to continue, you'll have to give me a few ideas – I'm fresh out. I did try hard to make Char not seem like a git in this Chapter, but what do you think? He is supposed to be a gentle, lovely person. **


	9. Freshly cut Wood and Sawdust

**Sorry about the late update, peoples. I hereby present the Chapter That Refused To Be Written! Enjoy.**

'Go ahead,' I said, more calmly than I felt. 'Ask me.'

'Why were you really at the ball?' He said immediately. 'Why were you dressed as Lela? Why did I get a letter saying you were married? Why are you with _him_? Why did you run from me? Why-'

'She only has one mouth.' Emlyn cut in dryly. I shot him an exasperated look. 'What?' he said innocently.

I began hesitantly, 'I told you the truth about the ball,' I mumbled, 'I did want to see you. I was dressed as Lela because I couldn't go as myself. And,' I bit my lip, forcing the words out, 'and _I_ sent you that letter. I wrote as both Hattie and myself. I'm so sorry.' I added, seeing the tortured look on Char's face.

He smoothed it out with some effort, and said expressionlessly, 'carry on.'

'I'm with Emlyn because he saved my life. When I ... ran away, I got lost and passed out. He brought me to an inn-'

'But we couldn't stay there long, because of your god-forsaken wanted post-'

'But we had to leave,' I said, cutting Emlyn off, 'and we travelled this way, and then you came.' I tried to finish on a final note, but it was a battle lost before it had begun.

'Why did you run, Ella?' He whispered. 'Why did you run from me?' I tried to avoid his eyes, but it was impossible. He held my gaze steadily, his eyes sending out a silent plea for answers.

I tried to clear my head; to think of a rational excuse that didn't sound cruel or insane. I was in the midst of thinking out a story which involved several ogres and blackmail, when Char interrupted, 'Don't lie to me, Ella. Not about this.'

That narrowed down my options considerably. 'I . . . was . . . indisposed.' I said. Well, I had been. I'd been working as a servant, hadn't I? It didn't really answer the question though.

Emlyn seemed to be curiously buoyant by watching our stilted conversation **(not for any romantic reason!)** and he went to sit at the base of a tree trunk, crossing his legs. Char gave him the evils, before turning back to me. 'You weren't too indisposed to write that to me. Why did you write it, Ella?'

'I needed you to hate me.' I mumbled, tears now partially obscuring my vision. 'Don't you?'

'Don't I what?'

'Hate me?' I whispered, staring at my feet. This reminded me of what Char had done when he'd caught me in the forest, staring at his feet, lost for words. It hurt.

Char chose to avoid this question, which felt like a stab wound to my heart. He was about to continue when Emlyn got up and walked over to me. He took my arm and steered me away from Char, who looked (as far as I could tell through the thick veil of tears that screened his face from easy vision) as though he was on the verge of complaining. He stopped a few feet away, and leaned down to whisper in my ear.

The more I listened to his idea, the more it made sense. This could really work! When he broke away, I brushed away the tears, and nodded eagerly up at him. He smiled smugly as if to say, _what would you possibly do without me?_ And we walked back to Char.

Emlyn spoke before Char could. 'Right, majesty,' he said undauntedly, 'I'm going to tell you why Ella ran away. Whatever I don't know, Ella can fill in for me.'

Char raised his eyebrows but said nothing. I could see he wasn't going to believe him.

'Char,' I said, and his gaze switched to me. 'Char, I wouldn't lie to you now. Please?'

He bit his tongue and nodded.

'Good,' said Emlyn. 'Have you ever met Lucinda?'

'The fairy?' He asked, surprise showing clearly on his face. Whatever he had expected, it had not been this.

'We met her at my father's wedding,' I offered tentatively.

'Yes,' he said, but his voice was a little off. I knew how he was feeling. Those had been happier times, less complicated than anything now. How I wished we could go back.

'You saw her at a wedding? What gift?' Emlyn asked enquiringly.

'Eternal love.' Char said before I could.

Emlyn snorted. 'Ironic. Anyways, imagine that, sixteen years ago, Lucinda invited herself to a birth.'

Char looked taken aback. He often seemed to look like that.

'Imagine,' Emlyn continued, 'that she gave the baby in question a gift which she deemed perfect, and which, naturally, had quite the opposite result.'

Char's eyes widened. 'But . . .' he stuttered, 'but . . .'

'And just say,' Emlyn seemed to have a bit of a thing for dramatics, 'that that gift was so controlling that she was forbidden to speak of it to anyone.'

I couldn't stand to see Char's face at the moment; torn, unsure, and, most un-characteristically, a little afraid. 'Just get on with it, Emlyn.' I said shortly, turning my face back to the ground.

'Okay. Lucinda cursed Ella with obedience. Any direct order she physically can't disobey. Think of any time you might have said something to her, anything directly demanding. Think of how she reacted.'

There was silence. I studied the haphazard scattering of moss and grass on the forest floor, waiting for someone, for anyone, to say something. Nobody did, so I looked up. Char wasn't disguising the emotions that played havoc on his usually open and calm face. Maybe he couldn't. It showed all the makings of pure shock, coupled with regret and – could it be relief?

Emlyn, as per usual, broke the spell. 'Erm . . . can I go now?' He asked me quietly.

I nodded, not taking my eyes from Char's face.

Nobody said anything while Char struggled to contain his emotions. It was deadly silent. Even the animals seemed to have caught the atmosphere and were quiet.

Char had by this time smoothed his face over a bit, but his eyes still showed everything. 'You . . .' he said, trailing off. He tried again, 'you're . . . cursed?'

I nodded again.

'Why do you look so scared?' He murmured. I didn't answer, and then he said, 'but . . . but why the letter? Why everything? I could have helped you – why stay away?'

I found my voice, from where it had been submerged somewhere in my brain. 'You were going to marry me,' I said in a hoarse undertone, 'I could be the downfall of the kingdom. What if your enemies found out? I could kill you.'

'What if I don't care?' He said forcefully.

'_I_ care.' I said. 'Do you think I'd want to be the ruin of Kyrria? Or the killer of you? Do you think I could live with myself?'

He looked down.

'You never did say,' I began. He looked up again. 'Do you . . . hate me?' I asked in a small voice.

A strange look came over his face, and when he spoke, the words sounded strangled somehow. 'Ella, I . . . I wouldn't . . . I couldn't . . . I lo-' He stopped. 'I could never hate you.' He said in a low voice. 'I didn't mean to come here to pry into your secrets. It's really none of my business anyway. I just came because-' He broke off again, coming closer. 'I came because I love you.'

Hang on, did he just – did he just say what I thought he said?

By this time Char was so near to me that I could smell him. He smelled like freshly cut wood and sawdust. But I couldn't make any other more accurate comparisons, because he'd taken my face, and, gentle as a summer breeze, kissed me. The feeling that coursed through me was one that I hadn't felt since my mother died. The feeling was pure love. It knocked down all my defences, and I was kissing him back, lost in the moment.

He released me too soon, and we stared at each other.

I whispered to him, 'I love you too.'

**Yes! I'm sorry, I can't write angst very well at all, but I hope you liked the end bit! I've been planning it for ages. Emlyn was a bit weird in this chapter. He's a really difficult character to portray.**

**I love you all!**


	10. The Nature Whisperer

**OMG that last chapter was SO hard to write! Thanks so much for everyone reviewing! Are you supposed to put the disclaimer on every chapter? If so, I'm sunk. ;-)  
Why did everyone think I'd finished last chapter? I haven't, I promise! This story should carry on for a while yet!**

When we found Emlyn (hiding in a bush) I decided to tell him first. He straightened up and lifted up a corner of his mouth. It would cause a lot of bother if I didn't tell him, and left it to Char. Speaking of which, the man in question walked to my side.  
'Char's coming with us.' I said solidly.

The smirk that had been hovering around his mouth mutated into a grimace of horror. 'What?'

'He's coming, too.' I said, trying to blow it off. 'Right, can we go now?'

'Hang on a second.' Emlyn grabbed my arm. '_He_'s coming? Why?'

'Because he wanted to and ... I want him to, too.' I summarised.

'By saying that, I assume you have some kind of plan? And what did you mean by "we"?'

'Emlyn. Don't throw a hissy fit. It's not such a big de-'

'Ella! I can't travel with him! Are you insane? He'll put my head on the block as soon as I'm asleep!'

'He won't. Besides, think of the mess it would make.'

He scowled. 'Charming.'

'Oh, lighten up!' I chided, 'things won't be that bad! Besides, we'll be safer with him here, too.'

His scowl reached new heights.

'Come on.' I said, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him back to the clearing, where Char was waiting.

Emlyn packed up in stroppy silence, packing everything into the fairy trifle, and mounting Emma.

'Shall we go, now?' Char asked me softly.

I nodded and made to climb up behind Emlyn.

'You can ride with me,' Char said, before I could get up properly.

Emlyn snorted, the faint traces of a grin hovering around his mouth. Char chose to ignore him, and offered a hand. Emlyn had to say something.

'You think the horse can hold you both?' He asked rhetorically, the grin becoming more solid.

I looked over at it, and saw the Emlyn had a point. The horse, a slim looking specimen, had obviously been bred for speed, not practicality, and looked like carrying one rider was quite enough for it.

Char could clearly see this, and dropped his hand reluctantly.

He got up on his horse, and nudged it with his heels, gently setting it into motion. Emlyn spoke gently into Emma's ear, and she whinnied quietly and started to pick her way forwards.

'So, where are we going?' I asked of them both.

'Well, I thought Bomaire.' Emlyn offered. 'A wizard lives there, or so the story goes. More likely, he's just an old professor, but he could help you.'

The way he said it sounded like I had some severe medical condition. 'Serve the damsel in distress?' I asked ironically, and Char laughed.

Emlyn sniggered, and put in, 'I doubt there's ever been a damsel in distress quite like you, Ella.' He adopted a high pitched falsetto, '"Help me, help me, O wise one! I have been enchanted by an evil sorceress, and am forced to do things against my wishes!"'

I kicked him, but couldn't help laughing, and Emlyn joined in.

'Where is Bomaire?' I asked of him.

'I haven't a clue,' Emlyn said cheerily, 'but Emma knows.'

Char smiled. 'We're travelling to the end of the world upon the informant of a horse.' Emlyn looked affronted.

'Well, that's nice, isn't it? I'm sure your horse hasn't even got a name.' He leaned over to Char's horse and whispered in its ear, as he had done previously with Emma. The horse snorted, and Emlyn laughed.

Char and I just looked at each other. 'Oh, such comedy moments.' I commented, to Char's amusement.

Emlyn ignored us, and shoved a hand into the saddle bags, pulling out a handful of oats. He reached the hand across to the horse, and it halted to eat. Emma kept going, so Emlyn dropped the oats on the ground. Char tried to get the horse to carry on, but it was far too interested in the tit-bits that Emlyn had provided.

I had to giggle at his expression, valiantly trying to get the horse to move, while it sniffed its way around the grassy land.

'If you fed him more often, this might not happen.' Emlyn called over his shoulder, making no effort to turn Emma back.

'Emlyn!' I hissed, shoving him in the back. 'Help him get his horse started again.'

Emlyn did nothing of the sort, saying, 'he's not _his _horse, you know. No living creature should belong to someone. Emma doesn't belong to me.'

I sighed, and slid off Emma. I ran back to Char., who was still attempting to lift the horses' head. He looked up as I approached, and a smirk crossed his face.

'What is it?' I asked, slightly irritated.

'Would it be wrong to say that male clothes really suit you?' He said, smiling harder.

I beamed at him and tried to get the resilient horse to move. When I tried to block off its way to the ground with a hand it tried to nip me.

I snatched my hand away, and it carried on sniffing, occasionally licking the ground.

'I would not be a horse for anything,' I muttered, heaving its head upwards, only to feel it slide out of my arms and back to the ground.

A booming laugh came from behind me.

'Emlyn.' I said, clenching my teeth together. 'Get over here!'

A few seconds later he was crouching next to me, and pushing me gently out of the way.

I moved gladly and stood up, watching. Emlyn was doing something I couldn't have expected. He leaned down and looked straight into the horses' eyes. I wasn't a master of equitation, but one thing my father had told me was that you must never look an animal in the eye. It makes them nervous and violent.

The horse was getting shifty. It had stopped sniffing the ground and was tossing its head from side to side, but still Emlyn carried on gazing into its eyes. The horse was holding his gaze now, and they were just staring. Then the horse nuzzled Emlyn's hair.

He whispered into its ear, and it snorted something back gently.

Emlyn straightened up. Char and I were gaping at him, agog. Char actually made quite a funny sight, sitting on a horse, an expression of disbelief on his face.

Emlyn gave us both a disparaging look. I smiled at him in a, you-know-you-love-me-really,way.

Emlyn scowled at Char, and threw him a bag. 'There. You might want to consider feeding your horse once in a while. His name is Grecha, but he says you can call him George.' He pronounced the horses' name to be _Gr- eh-cha, _but with a soft 'ch'. **Do you know what I mean?**

'Excuse me?' Char said. 'Horses cannot speak. You were full of this last time-' He broke off.

Emma trotted up to Emlyn, offering him her back.

I shook my head in disbelief, watching Emlyn climb up, and turn his head towards me.

I climbed up after him, and we set off. 'How do you do that?' I demanded of him. 'It's not normal. You can't say you just picked this stuff up.'

Emlyn said quietly, almost hoarsely, so that only I could hear, 'Don't think you're the only one with a magical gift, Ella.'

He would say no more on the subject, but I paid more attention to him and the way animals acted around him after that.

We travelled on in the same way for a few days, stopping to set up camp overnight.

Char and I caught up, and he seemed so much more bright and happy now than I'd ever seen him…apart from when he was around Emlyn.

I really needed to sort things out between them, or their hatred could be the undoing of us all.

**Danke shoen! Okay, any good? I'm sorry, not much happened in this chapter, but I have a great idea for the next one, so stay tuned, so to speak.**

**Thanks to Lizzy, my SA clone, too!**


	11. Let's go

**Okay, I'll be the first to say it. This chapter sucks. It didn't want to be written! But heigh ho. See what you think. And sorry to horselover2005. Not much happened in this one. Let's see about the next.**

We travelled well, making a good speed, and Char seemed in high spirits. We reached Bomaire in a few days, and set up camp just outside the town.

While we were unpacking, Emlyn put forward, 'someone had better go see if the posters have reached the town. We really don't want anyone to recognize Ella.'

He had a point. The last thing I wanted was to be returned to Hattie and Mum Olga, now that I'd come so far. Me and Emlyn turned to look at Char.

'It can't be me,' Char started, 'I'm the prince of Kyrria! If they're going to recognize anyone, it'll be me!'

'No, they won't.' Emlyn said with an air of forced calm; the voice that he often put on while talking to Char. 'This town is miles away from Kyrria, and it doesn't belong to any city or land.'

'Speaking of which, I've never heard of Bomaire,' I said. 'It's not _so_ far away from Kyrria.'

'It's a home.' Emlyn said softly, 'a place for people who are lonely, or hurt, or just need a home. It's impossible to get here without a just purpose. You'd just avoid it without realizing what you were doing.'

'Then how do you know about it?' I asked.

'I was lonely.' He said, even more quietly. Then, returning to his usual voice, he continued, 'well, it can't be Ella, because if there were posters, she'd be sunk. It can't be me, because I recently had a tiff with an influential landlord, and if more people have come to Bomaire, it's probably best that I stay out of sight for a while. No one from Kyrria's in there as yet, so…'

I was sure that Emlyn's logic was deliberately flawed, but even so, Char abandoned the camp fire he was making, smiled at me, and departed.

When he was out of earshot I turned to Emlyn. 'What was that for?' I demanded.

'What?' He asked innocently.

'You know as well as I do that if anyone should go in there, it's you! Cold feet, Emlyn?'

'No, I just wanted to talk to you alone.' He said, and abandoning all further pretence, he said, 'Ella, as soon as we get out of Bomaire, I'm going my own way again.'

'What?' I said, shocked. 'Because of Char?'

'Yes, actually. Ella, that man that you love so much cast me out of my _home.' _He said. 'I put up with him for this long because of you, but I'm not going to spend longer than I need to with him. You'll be fine. He can travel in the wilderness well, and you'll be safe -'

'This is ridiculous!' I cried. 'Why can't bygones be bygones? Why can't you both just forgive each other?'

'Because I did nothing wrong!' Emlyn exploded. 'I saved the other cities from being destroyed, and what thanks do I get? Nothing!'

We looked at each other for a short time, while Emlyn's breathing calmed.

'I'm sorry,' I said quietly. I sat on the hard ground, and he followed suit.

He was silent for a few moments, then said, 'I'm sorry too, Ella.' He put his arm around my shoulder, and with an air of forced cheeriness, 'It won't be that bad. We'll find the wizard, he'll put the curse right, and then you won't even need me, anyway.'

I'll miss you, though.'

'I'll miss you, too.' He made an odd kind of squeaking, scuttling noise, and a brown mouse scampered through the undergrowth towards us. It darted up Emlyn's leg, and sat on his shoulder, squeaking into his ear.

'What's he saying?' I asked, intrigued.

'He's asking me what I want; he needs to get back to his food.' Emlyn whispered, as not to disturb the mouse. Then he squeaked in the same fashion back to the mouse. The mouse scuttled off.

'How do you do that? Can you teach me?' I asked eagerly.

He looked a little taken aback. 'Ella, there are hundreds upon hundreds of languages.'

'Can you just teach me mouse, then?'

He considered me for a while, and then smiled. 'Go on, then. This is hello.' He made a funny squeaking sound.

I tried to copy it. Emlyn laughed. 'They aren't.' He said.

'What?'

'You just asked me: "why fingers green?"'

'What did you do?'

He made the noise again. I tried to copy it, and again he laughed, 'I've already told you, they aren't.'

After a few rounds of this, I managed to get the right sound. Exultant I squeaked again and again, and didn't notice when Char came back into the clearing. He looked at us with an expression of amused confusion, and that pushed us over the edge.

'What's so funny?' Char asked, chuckling in spite of himself at the sight of Emlyn and I in hysterics on the forest floor. He let us carry on for a while, then cut the mood with, 'there's no posters there, but I swear I saw soldiers.'

'You sure?' Emlyn asked him, sounding detached.

'No, not at all, but…'

'Let's just go in.' I decided. 'You could be wrong, and I've nothing to lose.'

Emlyn nodded. 'Okay.' He stood up, and yanked me up with one hand, much to Char's disapproval. 'Let's go.'

**I have officially hit a wall. Tell you what, if you like, somebody else can write the next chappie for me! I'll say what to write, and if more than one person wants to, I'll pick the name out of a hat or whatever, though that's not likely. That would be a truly great help to get this story swinging again. Luuurve you all!**

**Annie**

**x**


	12. Good news!

**Hey! I **_**think **_**I may have shifted my writer's block! So I'm going to carry on with What If until further notice! All good ? Please review with any ideas – I still need them. Cyber-cookies to all! Although, if, like me, you are a Dr. Who fan, you may agree that the idea of cyber cookies are a bit weird. What would the ingredients be? Iron, steel and a pinch of copper? **

**DELETE! DELETE! DELETE!**


	13. Willow

**Hey, c'est moi! It feels good to be writing again, you know? But please review and tell me what you want from Ella/Emlyn – not sure at the moment.**

We walked into Bomairewith high spirits. Emlyn obviously knew his way around here like the back of his hand, and led us straight to a tall, Victorian-style inn. I looked up at the sign as we passed. _The Flown Arrow, _it proclaimed, and a picture of a crudely painted arrow was displayed on the front.

Then Char pulled on my hand, and we followed Emlyn inside. It was well furnished, tidy and clean, but had the air of another, simpler, era around it. There was a stone fireplace in the wall, and red velvet loveseats with mahogany edgings dotted the flagstone floor and rugs.

Emlyn was standing by the bar area, talking to a pretty blonde girl. We walked up to join him.

'Ella, this is Willow – an old colleague.' He smoothly refused to acknowledge Char.

Willow appraised me and Char, taking everything in about us in the way that Emlyn had when I'd first met him. A shadow passed over her delicate features, but was quickly banished. 'Hey,' she greeted us with a lilting Scottish accent.

'Um, hello,' I said, smiling tentatively at her. She returned the smile, but it didn't touch her eyes.

She turned to Emlyn, and then said something to him quickly in an unfamiliar tongue. It was nothing like any language I had ever heard – rich and smooth, like melted chocolate transformed into sound.

His brows narrowed, and he replied in the same unfamiliar tongue, his speech tilting up a little at the end, forming an unknown question.

Willow answered him, visibly more agitated. She flung a hand out, gesturing at the doors, her tone turning pleading. Emlyn's brow contracted. He replied in Kyrrian. 'No.' Then he turned to us, saying, 'I think we should find a different inn.'

'No, no –' Willow seized his arm. 'You can stay here, of course you can, but…'

'Good! Right, Ella, _Majesty_, this way.'

Char scowled at his, tightening his grip upon me.

Emlyn returned his scowl with extra velocity. '_If you please.'_ He stalked away, down a wood-panelled corridor. I followed, yanking Char along with me. Emlyn selected three doors in a row, holding his hand out to Willow. She dropped three keys into his palm, turned, and walked away from him.

The rooms were adjoining, and I was in the middle one, still not quite trusting Emlyn or Char. After stowing our things away, we decided to go for a walk around town, agreeing to meet up again at the Flown Arrow at two.

Bomaire was a wonderful place. You could see all kinds of people there, old people, young people, all garbed in the fashion of the place they had come into the town from. Elderly gentlemen in immaculate decades-old Ayorthan dress were accompanied by elves in the customary green and brown.

There were shops, but I soon learned that nothing was paid for in currency – it was impractical, so many people coming here from different places. No, they traded things; food, trinkets, gadgets, sometimes even stories.

I bought a leather gourd for my belt with a fairytale my mother had told me as a child – the shop-keeper seemed to consider this fair trade.

It was ten minutes before I realised I was getting some odd looks. I thought this was a little rich, considering what a motley bunch they were. I supposed it was because I was new – there weren't used to many new people, allowing for Bomaire's location.

I was just chatting to a man who sold beautiful pottery when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned, smiling, to see a man wearing a tunic and a friendly smile. 'Hello,' he greeted me.

'Hi,' I said, cheerful.

'I don't think we've met – I'm Anthony.' He held out his hand.

'No, I'm new here, I'm Ella.' I shook it. It was warm and rough, as though he were used to handling tools.

'Me too!' Anthony smiled. Brushing his sandy hair out of his eyes, he said, 'do you want to go for a walk - I could show you around.'

'That would be great, actually,' I admitted. 'I don't know how long I'm going to be here.'

Emlyn watched Ella walk away, and then doubled back once he was sure the Prince wasn't looking. The very thought of Charmont made his stomach churn. He went straight back into the Flown Arrow. Willow was in a chair by the fireplace, staring into the flames. She didn't seem to notice when he re-entered.

Emlyn went up to her and gripped her around the arm. She jerked into life like a startled cat, and, looking up, went still.

'You told me there were people in town looking for Ella,' Emlyn said, his voice low. 'What kind of people, what did they want?'

'Emlyn, listen to me, I –'

'Willow, tell me everything you know, and tell me now.' The girl appraised him with her green eyes, and then sighed. She knew him well enough to know to tell the truth.

'They came about a week ago,' Willow began, talking slowly. 'Soldiers. Swords, armour, the whole thing. They were looking for a girl. They said she was a witch, and that she was out to destroy their country.'

'Kyrria?'

She nodded. 'They looked through the whole town, and monitored everyone here. They made a record of everything.'

'No, that's impossible. You can't come here with a violent intent, everyone knows that.'

'Well, they managed to get past that barrier. They've stayed here for a while now, waiting for her.'

'For Ella?'

'Yes. They don't have a description, though, just knowledge of her travelling partners.' At this, Willow's eyes flickered away. It was the minutest movement, but it did not escape Emlyn.

He tightened his grip. 'Oh, dear God, Willow, what did you do?'

'I didn't –'

'Don't lie to me!' Emlyn shook her shoulders angrily. 'What did you do? I thought we were good enough friends!'

Willow stood up suddenly. 'We are!' She cried. 'This was for the best of all! Once they have her, they'll go, and they'll give us enough food to last through a whole Winter –'

'You _idiot!_' Emlyn roared. 'You think they'll stick by that? You betrayed me for nothing, Willow, _nothing!_'

'I didn't betray you, Emlyn!' A tear escaped her eye.

'You told them she was here, didn't you!'

Shaking, Willow nodded.

Emlyn thrust her away from him, as though the sight of her disgusted him.

He turned, and ran.

We began to walk along the cobbled street. 'Are you travelling with anyone?' He asked me presently.

'Yes – my friend, and my…erm…other friend.' I said, unsure of what the appropriate term was for what Char meant to me. Anthony seemed to understand. 'Is that Emlyn?'

'You know Emlyn?' I asked, surprised.

'I know of him,' Anthony said. 'I'm quite new here, too.' There seemed to be a double meaning in his tone, and I looked up at him questioningly. He just smiled and brushed it off.

'Why'd you come here? People generally have a reason.'

'Oh, I'm looking for someone.' I said.

'Who?' He asked.

'I don't know yet.' Anthony cocked his head to one side.

'I came here with a group of colleagues,' he said, a spark in his eyes. 'We're staying at an inn across town – what about you?'

My intuition sparked a little there. He was asking too many questions. Why? We were walking down a street by this point. It was empty.

'Um, listen, I need to go,' I said, my eyes narrowing. 'I said I'd meet my friends, so…'

'You're not going anywhere.' He said, as though commenting on the weather.

'What?'

Suddenly, he grabbed me around the waist, forcing something down on my mouth, hard. A cloth or something. I sensed other people rushing out of the buildings around us.

_Ella! _I could hear someone shouting for me. Emlyn, maybe. But the smell of the cloth was making me drowsy.

_Ella!_ I tried to be alarmed, but I was too far gone. I slid into the void.

_Ella!_

**So! Like? Hate? Tell me just the same. Oh, and please tell me what you think should happen with Ella and Emlyn. I am yours to command!**

**Within reason, obviously.**

**Annie x**


	14. Fire Rings

**Um, hi. So, this story is technically on hold, but I will try to update occasionally now. A few very lovely people have asked me to carry one with it, so here goes!**

**Oh, I'm changing to the second person for a while here. In this chapter you see a slightly darker side to Emlyn.**

Emlyn's feet pounded the ground, pushing himself forward at a faster pace than he had ever felt the need to run before. Yet, then, why was it that his feet felt like lead, clumsy and slow?

The soldiers had converged upon Ella's prostrate body like flies around a honey pot, picking her up and carrying her away with the ease that comes with sheer numbers. They moved fast, but they were burdened by their cumbersome leather armour.

"Ella!" Emlyn yelled out once more, the effort of shouting while running grating through his throat. He was so close – fifteen feet at most – when about half a dozen men detached themselves from the group and stood their ground to meet him.

Emlyn was well used to thinking under pressure. As he ran, he surveyed the soldiers, taking in the occasional dirt on a shoulder, the defensive, single minded stance, the golden ring on each of their fingers.

This process of thinking took under ten seconds. _Know thine enemy _was a phrase that Emlyn was well acquainted with, though he couldn't see how it would help him here. How do you fight six unmarried – yes, definitely unmarried – men with nothing to lose, who cared not for each other, who were bound together under an order that was the only thing in their lives?

Emlyn feinted to the left, and then ran flat out to the right, trying to swerve around them. They seemed to fall for the trick, but just as he thought he had cleared them, he was dealt a heavy blow to his left side by a thrown large rock.

He staggered, falling to one knee. For a second he gritted his teeth against the pain, but then pushed it aside, and got to his feet again. The men were nearly upon him. He allowed them to come within a two foot distance, and then jumped. Backwards.

His somersault carried him right behind the men. It seemed foolish not to take advantage of their lack of helmet – none of these men were wearing any metal aside from the rings – so he threw a roundhouse punch to the head of the nearest.

The man went down like a ton of bricks. Emlyn felt quite pleased with himself – throbbing fist and ribs aside – until he realised that the rest of the men were nowhere to be seen. He looked down at the soldier at his feet, and bent down to his level.

Thirty heartbeats passed, and the man blinked and stirred a little. Emlyn took hold of his lapels, shaking him viciously, as a cat would a mouse.

The man paled at the sight of the furious pale face just inches from his own, and stilled.

"Now," Emlyn said quietly. "If you have any sense in that dumb brick you call a brain, you'll tell me exactly what I need to know."

A dagger was thrust under the man's chin, brushing badly shaved stubble. Stiffly, the man nodded.

_Coward,_ Emlyn thought derisively. But he did not complain, it would make this a whole lot easier. "Where are you taking her?" He demanded. "Tell me!"

Shakily, the man lifted a hand, pointing in the direction of the Bomaire Tower.

"Why?"

The soldier put up a little resistance to this question, shaking his head. Under the murderous gaze of his interlocutor, and the hard reality of the knife beneath his jaw, the man whispered one word.

"Weapon…"

Of course! Emlyn shouted internally. A weapon. If forced to pledge herself, Ella could become the greatest weapon any force could ever have. Someone who would serve you unswervingly, who would kill whoever you wished, never betray you. Of course people would want her as a weapon.

"Okay," Emlyn said. "One more question, just one."

The man nodded.

"Who is your master?"

At this, the man struggled violently, kicking his legs as desperately as a trapped colt. Emlyn pressed the cold steel harder against the man's neck, but still the man struggled.

"Tell me!" Emlyn said harshly.

"Please," the man whispered. "I have a family, a wife, three children, please…"

"You are unmarried," Emlyn replied flatly. "You have dirt on your shoulder, where you yourself can't see it but others can. No self-respecting wife would let you out of the house like that."

The dagger slipped slightly, drawing a thin, shallow scratch on the man's jugular.

Eventually, the man whispered, "Tounre…" At this, the man went stiff and pale. His skin literally shivered where it was, and heat began to spread through him.

Emlyn looked down at the man, shocked, and saw the most horrible thing he had ever seen in his life. Flames had burst out of the ring on the man's forefinger, licking up his arm and spreading across his chest. The man was powerless to do anything – the only part of him still mobile was his eyes and they glared desperately at Emlyn.

They seemed to be begging him to do something. Emlyn removed the dagger from the man's throat, raised it high, and stabbed it down, plunging it into the unnamed soldier's heart. Death was instantaneous, and much less painful that being burnt alive. The instant the man's eyes had glazed over, the fire went out, leaving just angry red blisters on the pale dead arms.

Emlyn didn't know what to do. He reached out, and slid the ring off the white finger. It was cool and harmless looking, but now Emlyn knew better. He slipped it into his fairy bag, and stood.

It was at that point he heard thumping footfalls. He whipped around and Charmont came running around the corner, his eyes wide.

"I … I heard that …" Emlyn didn't know what to say, he was frozen to the spot, unable to move, much less speak.

The Prince's gaze fell onto the man, and the dagger protruding from his chest. "You murdered him!"

This snapped Emlyn out of his daze. Not feeling the need to explain the man's death to the Prince, he spoke fast. "They've taken Ella. The soldier said that she's held up in Bomaire Tower, up there."

Charmont's gaze slid to the beautiful building. It was a work of art; build centuries ago as the first Bomairian building. The large dark grey rocks curved around into a circular tower, green ivy and plants growing up the side of it, reaching nearly as high as the slate shingles.

The Tower had used to be a place of sanctuary, but now it's windows were black holes, staring out at all. It has been tainted by the goings on of this new Bomaire.

"They want her to be their new weapon. A spy, perhaps, who will do whatever you ask, no matter the consequences. A fearsome thing to behold, if she agrees."

"She won't," Charmont murmured.

"She will if they make her. She will have to agree of her own free will, but they will have ways of convincing people."

There was a pause, then:

"Did you kill that man?"

Emlyn couldn't believe his ears. "What?"

"That man. That's your dagger, isn't it?"

Emlyn took a calm, steadying breath. "Yes, it is my dagger. Yes, it killed him. It was also a merciful killing, believe it or not."

"By _merciful killing,_ do you mean murder? You got what you wanted out of him, then murdered him for it?"

"No!"

"He could have children, a family! For God's sake, have you no conscience?"

"He was being burnt alive, you brainless snob! Would you rather he died in agony, or quickly and easily?"

Charmont surveyed him, disgusted and horrified. "That," he said, his voice shaking with anger, "is the worst cover-up story I've ever heard."

"Doubtless, if you're so naïve you think everyone tells you the truth all the time."

"You're a liar!"

Emlyn threw his hands up in the air. "For God's take, can you hear yourself? I do lie, it's true, but this happens to be one of the occasions that I'm telling the truth. Do you want Ella back or not?"

The Prince was crimson with fury. "I can't believe Ella even talks to you! Does she know you're a murderer?"

"She would have done exactly the same in my place! She's not so cowardly as to refuse to get her hands dirty to hep others, like some!"

"Oh!" Charmont cried. "Oh, I see now! You intend to steal her away from me, don't you? You think that she will prefer a lying, thieving murderer to me! She loves _me!"_

"Oh, for the sake of every tree in the forest!" Emlyn shouted. "You're insane! You're actually delirious! We need to get her out of there, isn't that what matters?"

"I can save her myself! I'd prefer to work without your help if it means not being stabbed in the back sometime to save your own skin! You're so selfish; you care for no one but yourself!"

"Well, no one else is going to, are they?"

With that, Emlyn stalked off, leaving the angry Prince standing and the dead body lying in the middle of the street.

HPHPHPHP

Char had a plan, of sorts. It revolved around breaking into the Tower, getting past the guards – by force if he had to – saving Ella, and getting the heck out of there.

Sometimes the simplest plans work the best, he thought. It was essential that his plan be carried out at night. The cover of darkness would help him, and the guards' reactions would be slower than in the day.

He couldn't believe the man, though! Char thought ferociously, wiping the sweat from his brow. He was digging a grave in the woods. He thought the murdered man might at least have the dignity of a grave, despite whatever …_ Emlyn_ … had assumed.

Who would have thought, though? He had disliked Emlyn, certainly, with his self-assured manner and flippant ways, but had never dreamed he was as cold-hearted as he had proved himself.

He rolled the body into the three foot deep hole he had dug, and began filling it in.

Ella could even have been in danger from him while they were travelling! What if the man had decided she was not worth the trouble and killed her? He went cold just thinking of it.

When the grave was sufficiently filled in, Char marked the spot by carving a small cross in a near tree with his sword. It would have to do.

He moved back to his newly made camp, sat, lay his sword across his knees, and waited for nightfall.

HPHPHPHP

Emlyn's plan was already in motion. For it he needed an shabby cloak, a toolkit and some cheese…

**Dun dun duuh! I hope it's okay. I wanted, in this chapter, to show that Char does have a flaw, and it's his take-things-as-they-come attitude, and his … um … slight lacking in the brain department compared to Emlyn. I think one of the only flaws in Ella Enchanted is that Gail Levine did not acknowledge that every character needs to have a flaw, and Char doesn't have one in the book.**

**Sorry, this chapter was a little on the LOTR side...**

**REVIEWS, POR FAVOR!**


	15. Getting Away

**Here we go! REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Pleeeeeaaaase!**

Emlyn smiled beneath the shabby brown hood of his new cloak. It was large, scratchy and billowed out behind him when he walked to reveal his bow and quiver, but it would have to do. He pulled it more tightly around his torso and continued walking with his back hunched over.

Having studied the mannerisms of different people, his show as a crippled old man was convincing, but it would not stand up to close scrutiny, so he'd better get in and out of the Tower as quickly as possible.

The sun was high in the sky still, which only made his plan more foolproof. Only an idiot would try to free a prisoner at night – the guards would expect it and the corridors would be even more patrolled.

Speaking of idiots…

"Oi, hold it!"

Here we go; the first hurdle...

The man guarding the gates scowled down at him, and Emlyn made sure to keep his face back in his hood. The cheese spread on his face stank, making sure that the guard wouldn't be too keen to get near him, and also handily providing him with a waxy, yellowed complexion.

"Oh, sir, please sir, me daughter needs her daily bread."

The guard raised his eyebrows. "Her daily bread. Really."

"Oh yes, sir, I blesses her when she eats it – otherwise the Almighty may curse her." Emlyn was cursing himself as he spoke. _Her daily bread. _Honestly – and all the eloquence of the Kyrrian language had gone straight out of the window. Disgraceful grammar.

The guard leaned in closer, trying to get a look at Emlyn's face. About four inches away, he recoiled. "God, you stink!"

"Oh, sir, please, sir, me daughter!"

The guard, in between wiping his hands on his trousers as though Emlyn had given him a disease, said, "Fine! Just, please, take a bloody bath and stop giving me aggro!"

Relieved, Emlyn went past the gate, pushing down the ominous feeling the building stirred in him.

It didn't take him long to figure out the likeliest place of Ella's imprisonment. Assuming that the Tower used the age old method of storing prisoners from the top floor downwards, and also that they'd be wont to keep her in a secure place, it seemed the most probably that she would be underground.

He headed for the stairs, keeping his head up and walking confidently while keeping his head securely shaded by his hood. Once or twice a lone guard asked his business there, and he redelivered his _daily bread _tale.

Only one man was sharp enough of wit to see through it.

"Daily bread? Oh, you're having a laugh." With that, he pulled down the hood of Emlyn's cloak. The events following were short and silent. Emlyn jerked his knee upwards – a brief groan emitted from the man – and followed it with an uppercut to the chin, heaving the pop of several teeth breaking.

Despite the nearly-instantaneous unconsciousness, the man still managed to get in a punch to Emlyn's neck after the groin kick.

Emlyn twisted his neck from side to side as he heaved the man into a storage cupboard a few feet away, pocketing the keys on his belt. A few weeks ago he would have finished the job properly and killed the man to avoid any potential loose ends, but now … now he just couldn't bring himself to. Strange what human company can do.

As soon as the corridor was empty, he swung the bow off his shoulder and nocked an arrow as he proceeded.

Suddenly, a scream rang out through the Tower. It was horrifying, it was blood-curdling, it was a cry of pure agony, it was …

"Ella," Emlyn whispered, his skin paler underneath the cheddar.

The scream petered out after what seemed like an eternity, and the Tower was silent. Deadly so. Emlyn ran down the final flight of stairs. A man passed him on the stairs, pale and sickly looking. It was only a few moments later that Emlyn realised this must be the jailer.

A rush of hate so strong it nearly overpowered him flowed through him, hot and burning. It was so intense that it almost took control of his senses and made him turn to follow the man.

But then the moment was over, and he was himself again. _Interesting,_ thought the part of him that wasn't still simmering. _Powerful emotions are toxic. _He resolved to look further into the subject if he got the chance.

Pushing the thought aside, he ran to find Ella.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

I won't disturb your sleep by forcing details of my imprisonment upon you. They affected the jailer nearly as much as they affected me – by the time he left he was clammy and white.

I was worse. The sharp pains of the immediate torment were replaced by a throbbing burn that spread, it seemed, not only over my torso but under the skin all over my body.

I slumped in the shackles the jailer had forgotten to unlock and slipped my eyelids shut. I had barely half a minute's respite before the door clanged open. I didn't even bother to open my eyes.

Maybe if I just stayed here, like this, I wouldn't feel anything. Besides, I was so comfortable where I was. If I could just drift away from this…

_Ella?_

A voice. I knew that voice. It had been the last friendly voice I'd heard before this place. Did the voice have a name to go with it?

_Ella! _

Yes, I was sure it did. What was it?

_Wake up, Ella! It's me!_

Emlyn! That was the name! I pushed against the barriers holding my eyes shut. Nothing happened, so I pushed harder.

Gradually, I became aware of something warm. I concentrated on the warmth, locked it inside me, and it formed itself into two arms. They were supporting me, carrying me away.

I remembered the last time someone had carried me away. In a different way. With words, with kindness.

"Char?"

A sigh, but laced with a smile. "I preferred you unconscious."

I finally remembered where my eyelids were, and lifted them to see a familiar dark haired, angular face. Granted, it was slightly blurred around the edges, though.

"Are you alright?" He murmured. I was about to answer when he interrupted himself. "No, don't answer that – what a stupid question."

I tried to smile, but I don't think all of my facial muscles were working normally yet, because he grimaced and changed the subject. "I cleared a way out for us. And with any luck, if your Prince is as predictable as he tends to be, he should be creating a distraction for us any minute now."

I creased my eyebrows together.

Suddenly, there was an almighty yell from the other side of the wall we were passing.

"Right on cue," Emlyn gave a brief, hard smile.

"How?" I croaked, not wasting breath on full sentences.

"Night just fell. It falls quickly here, due to the position of the sun in the sky and the placement of the town." I'm sure I looked perplexed, even in my state. "Never mind." He added.

He straightened up suddenly as he headed for the gates. "Act dead." He muttered into the breeze. Well, that was easy.

I closed my eyes and slept.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

When I woke, I was being placed on some damp-ish planks of wood, with the sound of gently trickling water all around me. I shuddered, repressing images that vehemently flashed through my mind.

"Ella?" I heard his voice, but rolled over, hearing no more, and surrendering to blackness.

When I awoke, I was alone, lying on the planks of a small bridge, which arced over a slow-flowing river. I tried to sit up, but it made my head spin so I lay quickly down once more. Someone – or Emlyn – had lain a blanket over me, and it was making me feel strangely hot. Too hot. I shoved it away and sat up again, more cautiously this time.

As I kicked the material off my feet, it crackled slightly. Odd. Blankets don't crackle. I leant forwards and picked a scrap of parchment from between the folds. It took a moments to un-blur the words.

_Ella,_ it read._ I'm not sure if you'll wake up before I get back, so I'm_

_leaving this here for you. I've just gone to collect some firewood_

_and possibly a prince or two. Depends how my luck goes, they're not_

_in season. Wait for me, and __don't go anywhere._

_Trust me; you're not in any fit state. Be back soon,_

_Emlyn_

I smiled at the note before dropping it into the water. I watched it float away into the distance, and manoeuvred myself to be sitting with my feet in the water. The cool liquid was soothing against my hot limbs. I lay back, resting my head against the planks, and closed my eyes.

About twenty minutes later, I opened them again. Still no Emlyn. Where was he? What could have happened to make him so late?

Maybe they'd caught him. Maybe they'd bound him up and hurt him and he was locked up in some dingy stone hole, bleeding. A sob caught in my throat. The rustling of the trees seemed more menacing now.

I realised that I wasn't feeling hot after all, I was cold. Icily so. I yanked my feet out of the river and wrapped myself in the blanket, shivering.

Besides Char and Mandy, Emlyn was my only true friend in the world – I would be inconsolable should I lose him. Had I already lost him?

And where was Char? Had he been caught too? The trees were now rustling louder, as though _something _was coming out of them. Shakily, I got to my feet, and advanced. "Who's there?" I meant to say, but the words caught in my throat.

I could see the hedges parting now, parting to reveal a tall, ominous figure.

Emlyn was coming out of the woods.

"Oh!" I gasped, and burst into tears, shrinking back against the rail.

"Ella!" Emlyn dropped the assorted branches he was holding and ran forwards. I buried my face in his jacket, and sobbed. He scooped my legs up from under me and held me against him. I wrapped my arms around him and cried harder, teeth chattering at the same time.

His warm arms were comforting, and helped to fend off the advancing wave of cold.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay."

"I thought you – I thought –"

He rubbed my back in small comforting circles and whispered calming nonsense in my ear until my racking sobs subsided.

"Missed you," I said quietly.

"Ella?" A new voice entered the rabble of confusion in my head. "What's wrong with her?"

Emlyn didn't bother to answer Char, just set me down on the bridge and wrapped the discarded blanket around me. It was the woollen one that he'd made me a tent with when we'd run away from the Houghton Inn.

I curled up underneath it, snuggling closer to his warm body as he sat by me.

"What the hell's going on?" Char all but shouted. "Did you – are you two – have you been…"

"Shut up, you idiot, can't you see she's ill?"

Char, who I doubt had ever been spoken to in that manner, fell silent. "Will you tell me what happened?" He asked quietly.

"When she's asleep." Emlyn answered.

Gratefully, I slept.

**I'm going to have to ask this question. Which would you prefer for Ella, Emlyn or Char?**


	16. Recovery and Silence

**Hey all! Sorry about the long wait; it's been a while, I know… Here you go! I tried to make Char a little more himself in this chapter. He's been a bit highly-strung recently, that's why he's been acting oddly.**

A long time seemed to have passed before I woke. Confused images flashed through my mind, melding together and sparking off nightmares that lasted barely any time at all, bursting into life then retreating back into my mind.

When my eyes eventually opened, my mind was so flummoxed that it took a while for them to adjust enough to take in the crackling campfire, the darkening sapphire sky, and the two heads of Emlyn and Char, situated on opposite sides of the flames.

"Char?" My voice croaked.

His tawny head jerked upwards. "Ella! Are you alright?"

I shook my head wearily. It was the truth. I felt, at that moment, as weak as a butterfly in a cocoon.

"Where does it hurt?" His head was closer now, his clear eyes anxious. His hands were out in front of him, ready to help if needed.

"Head…" I whispered. "Stomach and legs."

Char leaned forwards and wrapped his arms gently around my middle, manoeuvring himself so that I was leaning comfortably against his chest. "What do I do?"

This seemed a pointless question to me for a moment; how would I know? But then I realised he was not addressing me, but Emlyn. In a civil tone, no less. It was nice to know that my hardships, no matter how arduous, had created a common ground for the two to find.

Emlyn was already by my side – I hadn't noticed him approach. I blinked a few times, trying to get my eyes to un-blur and focus. It took a few tries, but eventually, I was fully conscious and in entire possession of all my senses. Emlyn was holding a small bundle of what looked like damp moss in his hand.

"Houyegrass," Emlyn explained, noting my gaze. "It acts like a sponge, soaking up any infection. I did most of it when you were sleeping, but there's still a bit on your stomach that needs doing."

"I'll do it." Said Char.

Emlyn raised his eyebrows, yet wordlessly handed over the poultice, and shook a silver knife out of his Fairy Trifle. I tried to struggle away from it, but Char held me fast.

"It's just to cut the bodice of your dress – otherwise we can't get to the stomach."Emlyn said soothingly. I relaxed, and he cut a slit in the bottom of my bodice, revealing a horrible looking welt that was oozing yellow pus. Emlyn's knife flashed forward and cut a cross in the thing. I yelped, and Char stiffened, but Emlyn calmly cleaned the knife on a cloth. "I lied." He grinned. "But see? _Now_ you can use the Houyegrass."

Char leant forwards and applied the package to the welt. It was surprisingly cool, and was soaking up the pus like a sponge, just as Emlyn had predicted. Eventually there was only a nasty purple bruise and normal red blood left. Char cleaned the area gently, his hands, though more used to weaponry, slow and careful against my skin.

Emlyn leaned forwards with a strip of white material, and proceeded to bind my stomach up, covering the welt completely. "It's best you keep that on when you wash," he advised.

"Wash?" I asked. My voice was slowly but surely returning back to its usual pitch and volume.

Emlyn chuckled slightly. "Yes. Wash. Ella, you've been asleep for two days, and, no offence, put you kind of smell."

I looked up in time to see the corner of Char's mouth twist involuntarily upwards for a moment.

Retaining as much dignity as I could under the circumstances, I moved towards the river. Char or Emlyn must have moved me when I was sleeping to a few feet away from the bridge, and I needed Char's support to reach it. When we did, he levered me down until I was sitting on it.

"I'm fine, really," I murmured to him.

He bit his lip, but retreated a little way.

"Turn your back, Char!" I managed a smile, and this seemed to assure him more than my words. He turned his back, and I, after checking, endeavoured to remove myself from the dress. Unfortunately, I didn't yet have the strength to get up again to lift it off myself.

"Emlyn?" I called back towards the fire.

"Yes?"

"Can I borrow your knife?"

His footsteps came towards me, and he crouched by me on the bridge. "Here," he handed me the knife. "Be careful, though."

"Don't turn around."

"I won't, I swear! But you might need an eye on you…" Emlyn cupped his hands around his mouth, and made several croaking birdcalls.

Within minutes, a large bronze eagle had landed on the bridge by us. It eyed me with some interest, but then listened intently to Emyln's soft instructions. It ruffled its feathers importantly, and settled down next to me with a clacking of claws.

"If there's any trouble, he'll come and fetch me." Emlyn put a hand on my shoulder, and whispered in my ear, "You were very brave in there. You have more strength in you that a thousand of the king's soldiers; your mother would be proud of you."

I pondered his words as he left. My mother…I had thought of her, more than anyone during my trials at the Bomaire Tower. Maybe she would be proud of me. I hoped so.

I lifted the knife in both of my hands, and ran it through the stitching at the side of my dress. Luckily for me, Emlyn kept his knives sharp, so it only took about three tries before the garment fell off me.

I let out a sigh of relief as I slid into the cool water. Looking down, I could see that Emlyn had already bandaged my calves up, thankfully. It felt nice to let the water support me, and even nice to clean my hair, which was filthy and knotted.

It took a long while to get myself clean; my muscles were stiff and unwilling to do anything too extravagant, even in the water. Finally, when I was pleased that I was at least clean, I crossed to the bank and climbed up, shivering, onto the bridge. I picked up the remains of my dress. It was in to way fit to be worn; the thing was in tatters, and besides, I'd only get filthy again if I wore it – it was caked in blood and dirt.

Wrapping it around myself like a towel, I made my way precariously towards the campsite.

"Um," I said, flushing red. "Could I, um, have something to wear?"

Char looked up at me, his eyes widening when he took in my bedraggled state. He averted his gaze tactfully, but his face was soon as red as mine. Emlyn hastily threw some clothes at me and turned back to the fire, and a pot of some merrily bubbling stew.

I walked into the trees away from them, the twigs digging into my feet. When they were obscured from my sight by a large oak, I felt it safe to get changed. Emlyn had given me another of his shirts and breeches. The breeches ended halfway between my knees and my feet, so I presumed they must be knee length on him, which was odd, as usually gentry wore these with tights. Maybe they were Char's; that would make more sense.

I pulled them on and squeezed the water out of my tangled hair, leaving it damp and dishevelled down the back of the shirt. What I wouldn't give for a hairbrush now…

I returned to the campsite. Emlyn and Char were seated in the same places, and Char beckoned to me to sit by him as I returned. I felt a small pang of something akin to guilt as I sat, but dismissed it swiftly. Emlyn was mature enough not to be bothered by seating arrangements.

Emlyn was staring into the forest, looking rather like a tree spirit with his pale skin and black hair. He stared and stared as though in a dream, as though seeing things that we mere mortals couldn't; fantastic worlds and creatures shaded from our sight.

I shook my head free of the fanciful notion, smiling slightly at myself. "Emlyn?" I asked quietly.

He gave a start, as though jerked back into reality. I could see two wooden bowls in his hands, and wondered if he was actually going to refuse Char food.

Emlyn silently spooned out stew into the bowls, then handed one each to me and Char.

"Aren't you having any?" I asked, surprised. It wasn't like him to skip out on food.

"No," he said. "I'm not hungry. I'll be back in a minute; I just need to … think…"

I watched him fade into the trees. Was he going to be alright? I didn't want him to… well, I didn't want him to feel like I'd chosen Char over his friendship, because I hadn't. I hadn't. Had I?

Char pulled me close against his side. "So," he said conversationally. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," I said. "Better than you, I should think."

"There's nothing wrong with me," said Char, looking perplexed.

"But you must miss home? You've been gone now for nearly two weeks – the first time ever you've left home without an escort, eh?"

He smiled. "It is, actually. But they'll understand."

"What, two weeks without you? They'll be weeping in the streets for your safe return!"

He laughed, and we conversed for the rest of the meal, and all thoughts of Emlyn were washed from my mind.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

When Emlyn returned, it was with some of his former cheer, yet the strange musing had not yet left him. When I asked him what was wrong, he grinned his familiar sunny grin and said, "Why, I've been invaded by heathens!"

"Heathens?" I asked, wondering if he was being serious or joking, which was odd, as I usually picked up on jokes straight away.

"Yes; did you know, yesterday you both ate that stew without once pausing to consider the masterly skill it took to prepare it – the delicate, succulent meat all seasoned perfectly with just the right amount of herbs…"

I snorted in a very unladylike way. "Seasoned perfectly? It seemed a little bland to me…"

He put his hand on his heart. "Bland? Your senses haven't been honed finely enough, you heathen."

"Heathen? I'm not the one who likes to nurse mice from relationship problems!"

"His wife had become pregnant from another mouse! He was going through a tough time!"

I whacked him over the head with my satchel.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

A few days later, I'd recovered enough to start discussing our next destination.

"We need to get Ella home." Char said instantly when Emlyn initiated the conversation.

"I don't think that's best." It was not Emlyn who had spoken, but me. "I can't imagine what I'd do back in Kyrria. My curse won't let me be … well … with you." I mumbled the last bit of the sentence, staring down at my lap.

Char stiffened. "That's ridiculous. I can't see why –"

"Yes you can!" I cried. "I've explained it to you!" I was on my feet now, dashing away a tear from my cheek.

Emlyn put a hand on my shoulder and gently brought me back to the ground. "You've both got a point." He conceded. "Ella isn't safe out here, and Charmont won't be safe with Ella in Kyrria. It's a paradox."

"There must be something!" Char said desperately. "Some way to break the curse, some potion or medicine, or…"

Emlyn sighed. I could see he was itching to retort sarcastically, but restrained it. "The curse was applied with magical means." He explained wearily. "Therefore, it'll either need magic to break it or a force as strong as it."

"What force?" I asked.

A corner of Emlyn's mouth twisted up. "Never mind. Ignore me."

I was about to press the point, but Char said, "Can't we ask Lucinda to break the curse?"

"I've already tried to." I said tiredly. "It didn't work."

"I think," Said Emlyn slowly, "That the best thing for you, Ella, is to go back to Kyrria with the prince."

"_What?"_ I said. This made no sense. "But… but you wouldn't come with us, would you?"

"No," he said calmly. "I wouldn't. You'd come and visit me though, wouldn't you?"

"He's right." Char said quietly. "We can get help for you in Kyrria; we can find Lucinda and force her to undo her actions – my father can, anyway."

Emlyn stood. "Well then," he said. "I suppose you'd better get going."

"You won't come?" I whispered.

He shook his head. His dark eyes were soft with contained emotion, but he offered me a small smile. "You won't miss me very much. After a few years I'll be just a memory."

"But…"

"Go," he said quietly, so only I could hear him. "Your Prince has found you. Go live happily ever after."

I stiffened, and turned to Char. "How would we get there?"

"I bought a horse in town." He said, a smile lingering around the corners of his mouth. "Let's go home."

He led me to where Emma was tethered. Behind her was a white thoroughbred, already saddled up. He boosted me up onto the saddle, and went up in front of me.

"Char, no, wait…" I wanted to say, but my voice wouldn't work. Emlyn was standing in the clearing, saying nothing either.

Char nodded to him. "Thank you." He said genuinely. "For everything."

Emlyn inclined his head slightly, staring at me. He looked lost in that clearing, lost and alone and unhappy. Then Char wheeled the horse around and we set off into the forest.

That was all that was between Emlyn and I, in the end. No words, no goodbyes. Just silence.

**Sorry, sorry! I know a few of you are going to hate me for this! The score, by the way, currently stands at Emlyn: 6, Char: 3, including all the lovely people who PMed me. To all my reviewers, thank you very much!**

**To all others: Please review, I know you're reading this...**

**To everyone: You haven't quite seen the last of Emlyn.**

**What do you think now? Emlyn? Char? Alone forever? Oh, Ella, Ella, what have you gotten yourself into…?**

**Lots of love,**

**Annie Wilde**

**x**


	17. Tounre

**Right. Guess it's time for another chapter then. Oh goodness gracious me, I'm really not good at writing angst – and you can bet there'll be a bit...**

Char and I travelled a long way without speaking. I could feel happiness radiating off him with such sincerity that I knew he was content riding in silence, as long as he had me. I had wondered why Emlyn had let us take Emma, when I knew how much the horse meant to him. I eventually arrived at the conclusion that he had needed to be rid of us as quickly as possible.  
The thought saddened me, so I instinctively blocked it and buried my head in Char's back.

"Alright back there?" He asked.

"Of course," I smiled as he looked back at me, but as soon as he turned, the smile vanished, leaving me feeling fake and, if possible, even worse.

Emlyn had never promised me anything. He had never promised that he would always be there for me, but somehow, he always had. I had just taken it as given that Emlyn would always be there to catch me.

I shook the thought out of my head, angry with myself, suddenly furious. Why did I have to ruin this? Just as with everything else? When my curse couldn't spoil things, you could count on me to finish the job.

_Be happy, Ella!_ I thought fiercely.

_Your prince has found you. _And he had. Char had come for me, dropped everything in Kyrria for a girl he loved. For a girl who loved him.

_Go live happily ever after._ I would. Char would find a way to break my curse, after all this time. What was not to be happy about?

I hitched a bright, carefree smile onto my face. I smiled at the trees and I smiled at the forest, at the darkening dusky sky above me. I smiled and smiled, ignoring the tears even as they slid down my face.

A wolf howled behind us.

**Emlyn.**

_Time passes quickly, does it not, Emlyn of the Sickness? For others. Others like her – the one who left you here alone, without friends, without adventure. She will forget you, if she has not done so already, as easily as water spilling out of cupped hands. _

_Yet you refuse to let go. You do not allow time to continue its natural course; you will cling to memories, to hopes and to fears long after they have ceased to mean anything to others. It is how you continue living. _

_If you were to accept, you would have no reasoning left, no motivation as an incentive to keep looking. But now you must accept. For you have found what you have been looking for – despite it not being yours to find – and now she has gone, without whisper, without trace. _

_All you can do now is run. Run from your feelings, from your memories. From her. _

_Run, Emlyn of Frell._

_Run._

Emlyn's eyes snapped open, and he gulped down huge mouthfuls of air, as though he had been drowning, and pulled out of the water a moment before death. He jerked upright, his hands tearing through his hair.

He buried his face in the grass, howling like an animal into the earth, pouring out his frustration and confusion.

His usually clear, vivid mind was a miasma of long unfelt emotion. How did people _think _when all they could do was feel? He needed … what did he need? Something that could clear his mind from these incomprehensible obstacles.

He stood, his fists clenched. There was something he wasn't clear of. Something that was eluding his befuddled and agonized mind. Something he needed to find, now!

He tried to separate the facts from the tangle of his own thoughts. Willow had betrayed him. Why? Willow had been his friend for years, what would cause her to betray him? Personal gain? Fear?

Emlyn walked towards the river that still gurgled happily behind him. The man who had died yesterday. He had said a name. A name that had burnt him to death, frozen him in place as the heat scorched his flesh.

He pulled the ring out of his pocket and placed it upon the grass. It looked tarnished, old, unwanted, quite unlike the shining gold he had seen yesterday.

The Bomairians had wanted Ella. A weapon. What for? Why?

The water flowed on, seeming to chuckle at his ineptitude. There was something here. A final fact, a final link in the chain that he needed to find fast. What was it? How far did this go?

He slid his shirt over his head, pulled off his boots, and dived.

The cold water was a welcome shock to his system, sharpening his mind even as it numbed his senses. He fought the current, holding onto the grassy bank to prevent himself floating away.

Then Emlyn sat, completely submerged by the icy water, finally able to think. He let the water flow around him, but held himself stiffly in place. Hot, emotional thoughts had no place in cold.

And so he thought, piecing the pieces of the puzzle together, even as his lungs began to scream for oxygen. He searched for a pattern, a missing link, something that must – _must – _be there.

And then the facts aligned themselves in Emlyn's mind, the missing link floating out of the recesses of his mind, joining itself into the chain of reasoning, and creating an intricate picture as terrifying as it was astounding.

Emlyn burst out of the water, his lungs desperately sucking in oxygen for the second time in that hour.

_Oh God._ Emlyn's lips moved of their own accord, but he made no sound. Then he sprang into action, yanking his boots on and pulling on his homespun shirt over his soaked torso as he ran to the campfire. He kicked it out, calling for Grecha **(Char's horse, in case you'd forgotten) **as he went. He stuffed his paltry belongings, including the ring, into the fairy trifle and leapt onto the waiting horse, bareback.

_Go, go, go! _He told the animal, and Grecha took off into the trees like a ghost.

_All you can do now is run. Run from your feelings, from your memories. From her. _Suddenly, his own feelings seemed unimportant. As he urged the horse onwards, all he cared about was her. He just wanted her to live. To laugh. To love whomever she pleased.

_Run, Emlyn of Frell. _As Emlyn's homeland grew closer, his life seemed to slip away. Fear pulsed through him, but he carried on.

_Run. _

And together, the horse and Emlyn of Frell ran.

**I was gonna leave it here, but then I thought that would be meanness and a bit short. So onwards. **

**Ella.**

"Ella?"

"Yes?"

"It's just about nightfall, so do you want to stop and sleep or carry on through the night?" Char asked me, looking up at the sky and slowing Emma down to a walk.

"Could we get to Frell by morning if we carried on?" I asked in return.

"I think so. Late morning."

"Then let's carry on." I decided. "I mean, unless you don't want to."

"No, don't worry, it's fine." He sped Emma up into a reluctant canter again.

The forest was dark and silent as it hurried past. The only sound was the gentle thumping of Emma's hooves against the dirt and our breathing.

"Char?" I ventured.

"Yes?"

"Do you think it's a bit… erm… quiet?"

He laughed, but the sound seemed too loud now. "Only you could find fault in too much stillness. It's fine, Ella – sometimes the forest's a little eerie, but it never comes to anything."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," he said, just as Emma drew to a resolute stop.

Char dug in his heels, but nothing doing. "Come on," he wheedled gently. "What's the matter?"

My breath caught in my throat. "Char, something's wrong. Something's coming."

I slid off the horse, and went around to her face. The forest was dark and shadowy, but one thing I could still make out - her eyes were wide with animalistic fear. Char joined me, but as soon as he had set foot on the ground, Emma wheeled around, her leg kicking me in my newly bound-up stomach as she did so, bringing me to the ground. Then she bolted.

"No!" I cried, crossing my arms tightly over my throbbing belly. Char rushed to me, helping me to my feet.

We both stared after the horse. "What now?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"I …I don't know." Char admitted hoarsely. "We'll have to keep going on foot."

My fists were clenched, my every muscle tensed, ready for danger. "We don't know what else is in this forest." I whispered.

"She's right." Came a voice from the gloom. "There could be anything in here."

I yelped in shock. Char drew his sword, holding it at waist-height. "Who's there?" He demanded. "Show yourself."

The voice laughed, a grating, harsh sound that scraped up my spine. "As you wish it, _my lord." _

Suddenly, a bright blue light emanated from where the voice had spoken. I blinked furiously, my eyes adjusting slowly. But eventually I could see the skeletal figure of a tall, pale man, both hands out – one to his side, and one in front.

The hand in front held a handful of shimmering, icy blue flames that illuminated his nightmarish face. It was haggard, the bones clearly showing, his eyes faded to a pale milky colour. His cracked white lips were drawn in a smile to show gleaming sharp teeth.

"Hello, Ella." He said, still smiling that horrible, gaping smile. "I am Tounre."

But my eyes had moved from his face to his other hand. It was out to his side like a puppeteer's. Suspended from his fingers, as though from invisible strings, was…

"Emlyn," I gasped. As Tounre dropped him roughly onto the ground, his face was thrown into greater relief by the flickering light. He looked … burned. There were slashes of dark, blistered skin across his face, and blood, black in the blue light, dripped gently onto the grass.

He was quite unmoving. He was dead.

**Dum de dum de duuumm… ****Oh sorry, did I not mention Emlyn's demise? Please don't hate me! Review with your thoughts! This story is by no means over, and anything can still happen... (despite the fact that I know exactly how this story ends...) **

**Annie xx **


	18. Pointless Hope Doesn't Exist

**Merlin's pants, people – looks like you lot love Emlyn! I'm not going to change my plot plan now, but I will say this – do you honestly think I'd kill off such an epic character? I'll leave that for you to dwell upon. **

"No," I said again, my brain not even registering my words. "No, no, no, _no!"_ I flung myself down beside him, smoothing his bloodied hair away from his deathly white face. His face, so animated and mischievous in life, now looked unfriendly and sad.

"Emlyn, wake up." I begged whatever part of him that could hear me. "Wake up. Please. _Please._"

He didn't move. He didn't speak. He couldn't hear me. That's when I knew this was real, because Emlyn had never _ever _refused to help me. He would never have heard me asking for him and not answer.

_Oh, God, no._

Char moved forwards cautiously, keeping Emlyn between him and Tounre. He bent down and reached out towards us.

"Don't!" I cried out at him, my voice coming out hoarse, strangled, quite unlike my own. "Don't you touch him!"

Char recoiled, shock evident in his features. He looked from my face to Emlyn's and back again, a strained expression forming on his features. I found I didn't care. I gazed at Emlyn's features, remembering how that very mouth had laughed, how those now closed eyes had sparkled with laughter…

I screamed. I screamed as though I would never stop, a long, animalistic keening that tore out of a deep place inside me.

It took a long time for my screams to stop. Tounre was looking down at me, cold curiosity in the milky angles of his face.

I realised I was shaking, shaking with grief, with shock, and with uncontrollable rage. I stayed there, crouched, quivering for the space of three heartbeats, and then I launched myself at Tounre, determined not only to wound, but to kill, to slaughter, to tear him apart piece by piece until he had suffered a thousand times what he had made Emlyn suffer.

I didn't even touch him. His hand flew up, blasting me backwards with a wall of pure energy. I collided with Char roughly, and we both tumbled to the ground, Char's arms cushioning me.

I scrambled to my feet, still quivering. I hadn't noticed the tears until one dripped off my face onto Emlyn's shirt.

Tounre's face was callously amused. Adopting a mockingly patronizing tone, he said, "Stop that, Ella. It's not civilised."

And, of course, I stopped. The tears dried up in my eyes, and I wiped the slippery tracks away.

"Come with me. Let's bring along your friend, shall we? I think he would do well as a demonstration." He snapped his fingers, then turned and walked away through the trees, Emlyn's body once again floating in his wake.

My body lurched forwards, Char at my side. He held my hand, whether to comfort me or to prevent me from attacking Tounre again I didn't know.

We walked through the forest together for what seemed like hours, but can only have been mere minutes. I couldn't bear seeing Emlyn's unseeing face and limp body ahead of me, but I couldn't look at anything else, either.

Eventually, we came to a halt. Tounre didn't look back, instead casting a bony white hand up into the hair. A bead of light appeared on his finger tip. It swelled and glowed brighter, so bright that it was difficult to look at.

A wind started gusting out of the light, blowing back my hair and forcing my tears back, growing stronger as the light grew bigger and brighter. It grew until it was twice as tall as me, a pulsing, glowing circle in the air.

"Go through," Tounre commanded.

My legs moved forward, but as I went, I seized Emlyn's limp fingers. I didn't care much where I was going, but wherever it was, Emlyn had to come too. If this ghastly spectre could conjure doorways in the air, why shouldn't he have the ability to rejuvenate Emlyn?

I got to within a foot of the spiralling light, my eyes closing from the brightness, when the mysterious wind suddenly changed direction, yanking me forwards into its bright depths, pulling me free of Emlyn's hand. It felt like gravity had shifted, like I was falling, ever faster, forwards, onwards sand onwards, until –

WHUMPH!

I collided with cold stone. For some reason, I felt no pain, which was odd, at the speed I'd been travelling.

I looked up, my dark hair dishevelled, blinked, and looked again. I was gazing at an enormous cavern. I must've been miles underground, but still the place was lit – the very walls casting a dim glow. These walls looked like they'd been carved out of crystals, out of the very skin of the moon (**I'm assuming Kyrrians had not yet been into Space). **

These walls had what looked like narrow walkways carved into them, and along these walkways, standing in fatal silence, were hundreds upon hundreds of people. Men, women, children. All staring blankly down at me with empty eyes.

I must've cried out. I know that nobody else's voice could have echoed hauntingly around the room. Barely a few seconds later, Tounre stepped elegantly out of the portal. Emlyn thudded ungraciously to the ground with a horrible thump.

"I thought it best to leave your Prince behind. Give us… shall we say… the privacy?"

He walked forwards, standing before me as I lay on the ground pathetically. I scrambled to my feet, lifting my chin defiantly. "What do you want?" My voice was hoarse and not really loud enough, but at least it didn't tremble or break.

He chuckled – a humourless sound, like tree branches tapping against windows. "What do I want? Well, it's obvious, really. I want you – your talents, your enviable gifts – at my disposal and usage."

My brows drew together. "What talents?"

He laughed again. "Oh, Ella, such pretence! Come now, no use hiding them any longer! I've heard … _all_ about you."

My blood ran cold – I believed him.

"For one thing, there's your charming obedience gift," Tounre continued. "Such a stroke of good fortune. And then of course, there's the obvious one – how long have you had _that _ability, Ella?"

I was silent.

"I suppose you were born with it," he mused. "It can happen. You must have a touch of pixie or nymph in your ancestry somewhere."

"I don't understand," I whispered.

He raised his eyebrows. "Ella, if you thought you'd be able to keep something like this secret, you must be more naive than I thought – how subtle is the gift of speaking with animals?"

My eyes widened. "Speaking with animals?"

His eyes flashed steel. "Ella, if you continue with this tiring charade, I shall simply have to convince you otherwise – and I'm very good at that."

He snapped his fingers, and all the people around us, who had been staring blankly, took one step closer – one step along their walkway towards me. "But that won't be necessary with you, will it? All I'd have to do would be to tell you to stop, wouldn't I?"

I stared at him in horror, fear polluting my system.

"But maybe a demonstration would be prudent." He snapped his fingers once more, and Emlyn's body flew swiftly from the ground, to land at my feet, in the space between Tounre and me.

"Don't."

Tounre ignored me, and Emlyn's body jerked up viciously, his limbs dangling down. Then he stiffened, his whole body tensing up, like a statue.

"Emlyn?" I whispered, hoping beyond hope.

Tounre laughed at my voice, and his laugh echoed off the hard walls. Emlyn's body began to tremble, all his muscles tensed –

"Emlyn!" I cried. "Emlyn, it's Ella! It's me, Emlyn!" I tried to touch him, but as soon as I did, my arm received a harsh shock, as though it had been briefly turned to jelly.

Then his feet touched down again, and he stood up straight. His eyes opened, and he stared blankly at me.

"Emlyn?"

**Give a girl a chance… Here we are. I'm actually quite excited about the rest of this story – love a bit of angst, me… I hope you enjoyed, and forgive my small errors, I didn't have time to proofread. Love you guys so much : ) **

**Annie xx**


	19. Brought Back To Me

**Back again! Sorry about the wait; you won't believe how busy I am, I feel like Hermione in Prisoner of Askaban. Right then, here goes...**

"Oh God, I thought you were dead!" I stumbled closer, not caring what kind of evil sorcery Tounre had cast, so long as it brought Emlyn back to me. But…

His eyes didn't register me. Not a flicker, not a hint of a smile.

I rounded on Tounre, eyes wide. "Bring him back all the way."

Tounre smiled slowly, not even bothering to answer me, his eyes icy. "Why would I do that?" He asked mockingly. "This is perfect. Now I even have leverage."

"No. No, please, I know you can, please!" I begged him, shoving my pride aside for Emlyn. "Bring him back to me."

"Why should I? You can't offer me anything in return; I'd gain nothing by letting him go. So I'll make you a deal."

"A deal." I repeated faintly.

"Indeed. I shall keep _this_ –" He gestured derisively at Emlyn, "- in his current state of semi-life, in exchange for your vow to serve me, and only me, for as long as you live."

"No." Char spoke for the first time. "No, Ella."

I turned to him, gazing at him blankly.

"You'd sign your life away, Ella. It's not worth it. Don't." The order slipped out of his mouth easily, with him realising what he'd said a millisecond after.

"I have to."I murmured.

"Why?" Char asked, and I could see he was asking me so much more. His face was desperate; his eyes searching frantically for something in mine that he could no longer find.

I considered his question, but I knew the answer as well as he. "I didn't know." I whispered, staring up at him. "I swear I didn't know, until now. I had no idea, and I never told him. I have to do what I can for him. I have to."

Char's face was white, hearing the final end of his wish. "You're… how long?"

I swallowed. "Always." The word fell out almost without sound. "I just never realised. Always."

I heard his voice clear in my mind, speaking to me. "_Come on, wake up, you fool." _

He had found me, alone in the hurt and the dark, salvaged me out of the wreckage of my life. How could I help my fall?

"_Who are you?"_

"_I'm Emlyn. Pleased to meet you." _

I turned from Char to Emlyn, then to Tounre, opening my mouth, fighting Char's instruction. Pain struck my chest, and I doubled over, clawing my way through it.

"What's wrong with her?" I heard Tounre say coldly to Char, who didn't answer.

I crumpled onto the ground, heart trying to force the words out while magic shoved them back, while the pain shook me, stabbing me with the force of a thousand knives. I think I cried out, though my body was not entirely under my control then.

I conjured up an image of Emlyn's face. His piercing eyes were shining with laughter, while his black hair glinted in the sunlight. He'd always been able to make me laugh. He'd always looked after me. Had I ever said thank you?

I rocked back and forth on the ground, grief battling with the agonising, all consuming pain.

"_Ella! Wake up, Ella, it's me!" _

It was him. It had always been him. 

"_You won't come?"_

"_You won't miss me very much. After a few years, I'll just be a memory." _

A memory? Never.

"_Go live happily ever after." _

"NO!" The cry burst out of my mouth as though I'd spend years holding it in. And the pain left me. One last time, reaching from beyond the grave, Emlyn had saved me.

I sprang to my feet, turning my back on Char, meeting Tounre's eyes coldly. "I accept your offer. I vow to serve you, and only you, for as long as I live, so long as you keep Emlyn alive in some form."

And so I signed my life away.

"Ella, no!" Char cried out, reaching for me – and then he was gone, vanished.

"Where did you send him?" I asked coldly.

"Back to Kyrria, with no recollection of his meeting with me."

I nodded slowly. "What do you want of me?"

Tounre was smiling an awful, triumphant smile. "Oh, nothing at present. But I'm sure I'll think of something. Until then, I think I'll keep you downstairs."

"_Keep_ me?"

"Oh, yes. I'm not going to run the risk of letting you get away, after all this. And just to convince you finally that I hold the power here, I think I'll have your friend guard you. Pointless really, he's just an animated corpse, but I think that will ram the point home, don't you?"

He jerked his head, and Emlyn picked me up by my upper arms, and carried me away like that, my dangling feet kicking his shins.

"Emlyn!" I yelped. "Get off me! Seriously, get off!"

He ignored me. He carried me down a twisting stone path that drew us deeper into the caverns and the ground. Around me, the walls grew even dimmer, the faint light that they cast getting so low that if I twisted round, I could only just make out Emlyn's face.

Finally, he halted. I took the opportunity to kick him viciously in the leg, as hard as I could. All that achieved, though, was making my foot more than a little sore.

We seemed to have arrived at a dead end, where a long chunk of rock seemed to have been gouged out of the ground, leaving a short, low passage.

"What do you expect me to do? Walk in?" I said scathingly. "You may have noticed my feet aren't touching the floor."

He set me down roughly, and gave me a hard shove between the shoulder-blades to force me into the hole. Then he straightened up, facing me, and became still as a stone.

I folded my arms defiantly, forcing myself to believe that Emlyn was still with me. A part of me wanted to crumple to the ground and cry, but the stronger part was holding its own. I had hope, and that was enough.

"I'm going to leave now." I told him. He didn't respond. "No complaints? Good."

I walked forwards, slipped around him and headed for the exit, braced for it, when…

"OUCH!" He had seized me hard around the waist, hurling me bodily back into my prison. I landed roughly against the back wall, my head hitting the stone with a sickening thud.

For a few moments, my vision clouded over, ripples of pain flowing down from my skull. When I opened my eyes again, Emlyn seemed to be standing a little closer.

"Ella?" His eyes were glossy, and he seemed to be trying to take a step forward, until he snapped back into his previous military stance.

"Emlyn!" I scrambled to my feet, then was forced to grip the wall to balance, due to head-rush.

I stumbled more carefully towards him. "Emlyn? Come on, I know you're in there, you can't hide from me. You never could."

His hand twitched, almost imperceptibly. I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been looking so closely.

A wild smile spread over my face. "I knew it. I know you can hear me, come on!"

It twitched again. "I'm not giving up on you, Emlyn. Never."

His hand was shaking, tense, trying to move. "What is it?" I asked. "What is it you need?"

His finger snagged the hem of his pocket, but then stiffened again. Confused, I reached into his pocket, feeling two things. One was his fairy trifle, and the other was small, cold and circular. I picked it out, looking at it in mystification. It was a thin golden ring.

I looked up at Emlyn, who was looking blankly straight ahead. He was trusting me enough to place his life in my hands. I would die before I let him down again.

I reached for his hand, realising as I did so that it sported a gold ring identical to the one I was holding. Were these the key to keeping him alive?

I slipped the ring onto his index finger, beside the other. The effect was immediate.

Emlyn sucked in a long rasping breath, then another, and another until he fell to the ground, gasping.

I fell to my knees beside him. "Emlyn! Wake up, Emlyn, it's me!"

He rolled onto his back, coughing, his eyes meeting mine, taking two more breaths before - "Can't live without me, eh?"

I'd never felt more joy in my life. I fell onto his chest and hugged him hard.

"Ow! Get off me, you lunatic, I'm not made of stone!"

I released him reluctantly. "Do you think we should keep our voices down?"

"Nah," Emlyn said. "He's most likely far away, taking a power nap. Besides, judging from the thickness of this stone. I doubt anyone within a hundred yards can hear us."

"Good." A silence fell between us. I pulled myself to my feet, yanking Emlyn up with me, to general complaints. "I'm free, Emlyn." A great weight lifted from my chest as I said this, and I revelled in the truth.

"What?"

"I'm free from the curse."

"How?"

I paused. "I – I'm not entirely sure. I, erm, don't remember most of it."

He saw that I was lying, and his brows drew together, but he didn't push me.

"How are _you_?" I asked him. He was still covered in blood.

"Well, I'm alive. Didn't expect that. It's nice, I like it."

"You know what I mean. Does it hurt?"

Emlyn grinned at me lazily. "Like a devil. I imagine I've got enough time left though."

"Enough time _left?"_

"Yup, for me to find Tounre and tell him that it's me who's a Nature Whisperer, not you. I'm assuming he didn't believe you when you told him."

**Ta da! I was going to go on, but then I wouldn't have been able to stop and this chapter would have been ridiculously long. I'm hoping to update really soon! **

**From my snuggly Welsh sofa, hwyl fawr! (that's Welsh for goodbye). I'm taking Welsh for my A Level, actually. For some reason I love it. Bye,**

**Annie xx**


	20. My Final Battle

**Back again! Hey, guys! Please, read and enjoy, I seriously and definitely love you all... **

There was a short pause. "You're assuming I did tell him."

This was followed by a much longer pause, in which Emlyn raised his eyes to the heavens. "Why not? How can something like that slip your mind? You do realise it'll be so much harder to convince him now, don't you?"

"Why would I want to convince him? He'd just take you instead."

"So _let_ him." He was looking at me as though he thought I were insane.

"No, I won't! Why do you think I didn't tell him in the first place?"

"Didn't you think that might be something I'd have wanted? To help you be free, after all this time? Do you think I could have lived with myself, knowing you'd thrown your life away for my sake?" His voice was rising angrily, and I responded to it.

"I was tired of you saving me!" My voice was louder too, now. "And to be frank, I think you should be more grateful. I know you well enough to know that you'd rather be dead than spend your life serving _that!_"

"That was not your decision to make!"

"Like hell it wasn't! I seem to remember you were absent from the conversation!"

"I was _dead!_" He roared.

"Well, now you're alive again – you're welcome, by the way – and also, not having sworn loyalty! I never wanted you to sign your life away for me!"

"You think this is for _you?"_

I faltered briefly, a lance of pain hitting my chest, which fuelled my rage. "Go, then!" I yelled at him, full in the face. "You're free to leave! Again, you're welcome!"

"You think I'll leave now? So you think I'm a coward, do you?"

"Don't twist this!"

"Isn't that what _you've_ done, Ella? I never wanted to feel like this! You've twisted me right around your finger, just like the Prince! Tell me, how many others are there?"

We threw words at each other like weapons, suddenly consumed with frustration, each desperate to say whatever sprang to mind, just so long as it would make the other _understand._

"_How dare you?!"_ I all but screamed. "I never forced you to do anything!"

"No? With your big sad eyes and your terrible curse?" He mocked me with his dark blue gaze.

I slapped him full in the face with all the force I had in me. "How dare you stand there and make light of what I've been through! What I've always been through, every day of my life!"

"What about what I've been through, every day I've know you? Everything I know for sure has been turned around, I don't know anything for definite anymore!"

"So, now you're angry at me for your own idiocy?!"

"I'm past angry, Ella, I'm furious! I'd be _angry_ if I knew I'd only dragged myself into this,I'm _furious_ because I dragged you, and now look at you! Imprisoned, kidnapped, and all at my hands!"

"Yes, look at me!" I threw my hands up in frustration. "I'm _free!_ I'm free to do what I like, be who I want to be! And you are self-centred enough to think that it's all because of you?"

He faltered, an unreadable expression flickering across his face, before his fury returned in full force.

"Self-centred? In the past few months, all I've thought of is you!"

"Oh really?" I barked a humourless laugh, but he didn't seem to hear me, just continued his tirade.

"Constantly, every day, every hour! I never wanted this! I've suffered through humiliation, agony and even _death,_ and, _stupidly, inexplicably,_ all because I love you!"

Silence fell, the echoes of his shout dying quickly. I stared at him, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to think or comprehend what he'd just told me.

His chest rose and fell with exertion and defiance, his eyes burning like a storm at sea. "We need to go."

"What?"

"We need to go _now!"_

"What?"

He seized my arm and pulled me along behind him, back up the winding stone path.

"No! No, Emlyn, don't you dare, let go of me!"

He grasped my waist in his hands, and I raised my hand to his cheek. "Stop." I begged him. His eyes burned into mine as his head drew nearer. My eyes slipped closed, but –

"Emlyn, you bastard!"

He had used his grip on my waist to toss me up over his shoulder, and was know gripping my knees to stop my struggles. "Don't you think my parentage is hitting below the belt?"

"You –" I let lose a stream of untypeable obscenities.

He chuckled. "I missed you when I was dead."

I kicked him, hard. Unfortunately for him, I managed to kick him in a place that's usually quite tender for men.

"Argh!" He doubled over, and I fell off his back unceremoniously, before gathering my wits and hurling myself at him, tackling him round the waist. His balance was so unsteady that we both tumbled to the ground, rolling over and over down the stone path.

His big hand curled around my head, protecting it from more damage. Then he pulled back, stopping our descent. My back crashed into the ground, and his face loomed above me, his eyes black as he reached down and kissed me.

Everything else vanished. The cold, the hurt, the danger, all forgotten. Nothing else existed except Emlyn and I. He kissed me fiercely, angrily, with the same passion and fire I'd seen in his eyes every day since I'd met him.

My hands reached up for him, searching for a way to bind us tighter, to fuse us together in a way that could never be broken, neither by king nor sorcerer. Then it was over, and Emlyn rested his forehead on mine as I said the words I should have said long ago. "I never realised how much I love you."

Emlyn's eyes snapped open, piercing deep into my soul. Then he leaned down and kissed me once more, softly, before abruptly vanishing as he leapt up off me and ran back up the slope.

I lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, before scrambling to my feet and sprinting after him, pushing my legs harder than they'd ever needed to be. Emlyn should have been faster than me, but he was tired, hurt and only just brought back from death. Even so, he was trying as hard as I was. We were both running to save the people we loved.

It was because of this that we both reached the main cavern at the same time, once again in the terrible room outlined by the dead servants.

"TOUNRE!" Emlyn shouted. "STAND IN MY SIGHT!"

And he was there, one eyebrow arched. "I see we have a problem."

"No," I gasped, catching up with Emlyn at last and clutching at the stitch in my side. "No problem. Definitely no problem."

Emlyn looked down at me, real fear in his face. "Ella, please." His voice dropped, and he spoke quickly. "Please let me do this. I have to do this."

I reached for his hand, holding it tenderly in mine. "I'm sorry." There was no time for anything else. I ripped the rings off his finger, and watched as his face drained of colour, his eyes fixed on me. "I fought so hard to free you."

I nodded, opening my mouth to speak – but then he was gone, slumping to the ground.

I turned back to Tounre, a fire burning deep inside me that not even he could quench. "This ends now."

Tounre laughed again, holding out his hand to the side. When he drew it back again, he was holding an ornate wooden staff, capped with an icy blue stone.

"Do you know, Ella, this staff feeds off fear? Fear of me, to be precise, and at this moment, it's simply _thriving_. Your terror keeps me alive, you cannot kill me."

I looked at him, uncomprehending. Then I threw back my head and laughed. I laughed so hard that my stomach hurt.

"Why are you laughing?" Tounre demanded. "Stop!"

I defied him, laughing harder than ever.

"STOP!" Suddenly, I was airborne, spinning through the dimly lit cavern and crunching into the wall. My laughter stopped, and I tumbled to the ground. A sharp rock caught me on my way down, slicing a furrow from my left shoulder around my back.

A strange thing happened. Pain exploded within me, wet redness dripping down my clothes and skin, and yet I was apart from the pain. I walked towards Tounre, who regarded me with a new wariness.

"I broke the curse." I told him, my voice not sounding like my own. "I am free. A concept you could never understand."

"You think so?" Tounre gave a smirk, but it did not reach his eyes.

"I know. Because I am not afraid of you."

"You think that matters to me? I'll kill you whether you're scared or not. You aren't to be trusted."

"You don't understand." It was like I was watching the scene, feeling someone stronger than me leading my body while I secretly writhed in pain. "I do not fear you. And yet, that staff is … what is it you said? _Thriving."_

I watched Ella's words sink in. "Whose fear is it?" She asked him. "I think it's yours. You're scared of what I can do. And you're scared because you realise now, that I have nothing left to lose. Everything I might have had, you took from me."

"Stop!"

"You fear the world too much." She said, walking closer and closer until she was staring up into Tounre's face, gazing up into the gaunt, horrific face with no fear at all. "And the world has begun to stop fearing you. I don't fear you, but I thank you."

"Stop!" Tounre was growling like a wild animal.

"I thank you." Ella said calmly. "Because if you hadn't stolen him, I wouldn't have been able to work out how to defeat you, and how to make you _pay._" And with that, Ella forced both rings she was still holding onto Tounre's skeletal, bone-like fingers.

Tounre screamed, and, having achieved what I'd meant to, that stronger Ella vanished, and I screamed with him.

As Tounre was salvaged from whatever half-life he had been living, horror filled his face. Horror for the things he had done, horror for what he had become. He keened like a murdered animal, and I writhed on the ground in pain, watching his magic die. All the long-dead around out were released from their grotesque puppetry and collapsed, their bodies all slumping simultaneously against the walls where they had been standing.

Tounre's screams echoed through the labyrinth, and the echoes carried on long after his body had turned to dust, right there on the floor before my eyes.

Soon, my hoarse cries were the only sounds left in that great stone cavern. I pulled myself along the floor, the pain bursting every time I moved, yet still I carried on, inching myself forwards until my shaking hand reached Tounre's staff. The light it gave was growing brighter, feeding off my own fear. If this did not work, then I was as good as dead.

The instant my hand closed around it, a new strength surged through me. I could feel my flesh knitting itself together, bones readjusting, skin closing over my wounds like closing eyelids. I pulled myself to my feet.

I pointed the staff at Emlyn's limp body, and whispered, pleaded, wished, "Live."

The stone at the tip of the staff glowed such a bright vibrant blue that my eyes closed. Gales of magic blew my hair back as I poured all the power of the staff into Emlyn's body.

I opened my eyes against the light, focussing on his face. His dark blue eyes were open, staring at me as though at a Deity, and for a brief moment I saw myself as he had always seen me, a beautiful, strong, brave girl, hair whipped back by the force of the staff, brown eyes burning down into his, piercing his soul.

Then the staff began to vibrate, shaking violently in my hands as I gripped it harder, while my hold on reality grew weaker.

Gradually, the staff's light faded, and slipped from my fingers as I swayed, waiting.

"Ella?"

And I let myself sleep, finally. I was unconscious before Emlyn caught me.

**Well, we've nearly reached the end of the road. It's quite sad really. Also, does anybody know how I change the settings on this story from "In Progress" to "Complete"? If you could let me now that'd be just fab. **

**Annie xx**


	21. Love

**Hi everyone! Well, it's been a tough few years, but I've finally arrived at the last chapter of What If! I'm going to chat with you properly at the end of this chapter Love you! **

**Oh, and the person who was extremely rude to me via PM. You know who you are, and it was completely unnecessary and hurtful. It's just a story.**

I awakened, but didn't open my eyes yet, just listen. I heard that rustling, hooting sound of a forest at night that I've come to know so well, accompanied by someone else's steady breathing beside me.

I felt warm and comfortable, wrapped up in a coarse blanket that nonetheless felt like a feather duvet. A heavy arm was draped over me, pulling me closer to an inert body, tucking my head against a warm, broad chest.

I could smell a familiar, safe smell that fills up my senses and leaves me full and content. I sighed, and finally opened my eyes.

It was dark, so dark that this barely made any difference, especially with my sight obscured by a sleeping body. I lifted my head and could make out his shadowy silhouette. I smiled, completely happy, without worry or care, for the first time in my life.

Emlyn's tent had been erected around us, the shabby brown material creating a haven for us, even if only for the night. As my eyes adjust, Emlyn becomes clearer beside me; his eyelashes splayed against his high cheekbones, his mouth slightly open as he breathed steadily in and out.

Almost as if he could sense my watching him, his eyes blearily opened. For a moment, lost in a haze of sleep, he just smiled. "Ella," he murmured. Then he seemed to fully snap into consciousness, blinking rapidly to clear away his tiredness. "Ella!" He said again. "You're awake! How – how are you?"

Unsure, he withdrew his arm from beneath me.

"I'm fine." I said. "I feel … good. Free."

I think he smiled then, but it faded quickly. He sat up, nervous. "Would you maybe like to sleep some more?" He asked.

"No, I'm awake now." I said, confused by this new, cautious version of Emlyn.

"Well… What would you like to do?"

"What, like now, or just in general?"

I think he smiled again. "In general."

I laid my head back down, staring up at the tent's ceiling. "I don't know. Everything! I want to travel, I think. I'd like to go see new places, have adventures, meet new people. I want to visit places nobody has ever seen before, I want to learn all there is…" I laughed at myself. "Not much, then. Oh, Emlyn, I just want to be _free_."

There was a pause. "The Prince is probably waiting for you."

"The Pri – oh. Yes." Char. My true love. I remembered, as the gleeful smile slid off my face.

"Do you want to go to him?" Emlyn asked me, a hint of something else, something bright and sunny, behind his monotonous question. Something hopeful.

I pause, then. "Yes. I – I suppose I better had."

But we both lay there in the darkness for a few minutes longer, neither of us willing to move. Then Emlyn sighed deeply, and left the tent. Then, a few moments later, he let out a chilling animalistic howl that echoed into the night.

I scrambled out of the tent after him. "Emlyn, are you – oh!"

Two wolves, real, _huge_ wolves were standing before Emlyn, who was looking almost smug. "I thought we'd at least travel in style. Which would you like?"

I gazed at the animals in something akin to reverence. One was midnight black, its intelligent dark eyes looking at me suspiciously. The other was a silvery grey, fearsome white teeth glinting in the moonlight. Its tongue was comically hanging out of its mouth, and it looked quite doggish.

"This one," I said. "Are they, you know, safe to ride?"

"Sure, so long as they don't think you're tasty."

He caught the look on my face and hastily added. "Joking, joking. You probably taste disgusting."

I laughed at that, and the wolves started, looking quizzical. "Do I just climb on, or what?"

"Yes." Emlyn could see that I was still nervous, and said the one thing he could have to make me climb onto a deadly carnivore. "Unless you're too scared, obviously."

I lifted my chin defiantly at him, and approached the silver wolf. It turned its flank towards me, which I took for consent. I climbed on side-saddle, burying my hands into its thick hair in substitute for reins. "Do they have names?" I asked Emlyn, who was busy putting the tent away.

"Not these ones, no." Emlyn said. "They're lone wolves, they have no need for them. Yours is a female, though, so you might as well name her if it makes you feel more comfortable."

My wolf turned her large head towards me, the moon glinting off her silver fur. "Arianne." I decided, on a whim. "It means silver in Aorthian."

"_Arianne?_" Emlyn said, laughing. "You're sitting on a giant creature that spreads death and destruction and the best you can think of is _Arianne?"_

"Well, what would you call yours?" I asked defensively.

"Rufus." Said Emlyn with a straight face. "Rufey-bear for short." And he climbed on to the terrifying Rufus with the graceful ease of one who has done this at least once before. "Hold on," he advised me. Then he let out three successive barks, and the wolves wheeled around and shot into the darkness like shadows.

I cried out once, burying my head in Arianne's neck. Her gait was surprisingly smoother than I had expected, but her tactic of traversing the forest seemed to be 'don't go around anything unless you have to.'

We leapt over bushes, streams, and once or twice other animals, the wind yanking at my hair and clothes with greedy fingers. Adrenaline raced through me, making me feel wild and fearless. I lifted my head up high, and let go of Arianne with one hand, lifting it up, feeling the air slip past my fingers like sand.

I was laughing now, gleeful in the flight of these beautiful creatures, and I could hear Emlyn somewhere nearby, chuckling in response to my own laughter.

And then, all too soon, it was over. It had taken us days to walk here, either on foot or on Emma, and now we had arrived back at the outskirts of Kyrria.

Arianne drew to a halt, while Emlyn and, erm, Rufus, stopped beside us. Emlyn turned to look at me. "I can't go any further." He said quietly. "So I suppose this is goodbye." He let out a dry laugh. "Again."

"Let's not say goodbye, then." I replied. "Just until the next time." And with a heavy heart, I slid off Arianne's back.

"Ella, wait –"

I turned back. Emlyn was gazing at me desperately. "If you decide, maybe _not_ to go through with being with the Prince." He began, biting his lip nervously. "I mean, he's the ideal person; good, kind, brave, but … but he couldn't give you the life you want. That freedom."

I stared at him, not speaking.

"Because," he stopped briefly, then continued in a rush. "Because if you didn't want to marry him, then maybe you could – well, you could come with me."

Still I didn't say anything, and he looked down at his boots. "Well, I should've known you wouldn't – I did know. I just had to show you … that there is another way you could go if you wanted. But you don't, and that's fine. Completely fine. Great. Wonderful, in fact. I – I'll go now. It was good to – good to meet you, Ella."

And he awkwardly retreated back into the shadows of the forest with Rufus. Arianne looked up at me, her gaze almost accusatory, before she too slunk back to whence she came.

I stayed there, stock still, for a long time. Then, shoulders slumped, I turned back to Kyrria. I needed to find Char.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It was surprisingly easy. Before I'd even reached home, I saw Mandy. She was walking along the street, burdened by a wicker basket full of groceries. As soon as she saw me, she dropped them and ran towards me unashamedly, skirts flying, tears sparkling in her eyes like diamonds.

When she drew me into a tight hug, I couldn't control myself. I broke down and wept my broken heart out into her shoulder.

"Shhh there," she murmured after a time. "Hush now, child. Come now."

Eventually, I managed to stem the flow of tears, and Mandy wrapped her arm around my shoulders and led me off home, but not before I managed to convey, to her joyous amazement, that I was now free of the curse that had plagued me my whole life.

When Mandy led me through the door of the house, I sensed that something had changed. I looked around, confused, before realising, that it was me. I was not the same person I had been, last I was in these rooms. I was stronger, braver, wilder – better.

Hattie walked in, stopping dead at the sight of me. "Ella!" She shrieked.

"Hello, Hattie." I said pleasantly, revelling in the sight of my old nemesis, stripped of the power she had once had over me. "How goes the day?"

She opened her mouth several times, looking not unlike a fish, before speaking. "Why are you back?" She demanded furiously. "Answer me!"

"Oh, well, I missed your dulcet tones, and couldn't bear not seeing you for a day more." I said. "In fact, you are much changed since I last saw you. Is that a new makeup you are wearing? You do realise that the more you attempt to cover your boils with powder, the more break out?"

Hattie's jaw dropped. "Get … get out of here this instant!" She cried at last. "I never want to see your face again!"

"I want never gets, Hattie," I sang blithely. "I could want you to become a beautiful, kind princess, but I think _that _is even beyond the power of magic."

"_And_ let's go into the kitchen," Mandy said hastily, as Hattie swelled with indignation.

As she led me away, I called over my shoulder. "But that _is _a lovely dress, Hattie. Who went to the fitting for it?"

Mandy shut the door on Hattie's wailing. "That was unkind, Ella."

I raised my eyebrows at her. She gave an unwilling giggle. "But, yes, I suppose worse things have happened." She conceded. "Pie?"

I nodded enthusiastically, and received with relish the warm meat pie she was offering me. Then, in between bites, I filled Mandy in on the incredible story that I'd lived in ever since leaving Frell. Her eyes grew wide as saucers during my tale, but she never interrupted, and as I drew the story to its close, her eyes filled with tears.

"So you'll need to see the Prince now, pet?"

I nodded.

She sighed. "I hope you'll be happy with your choice, Lady."

I smiled shakily. "Me too." As I turned to go, she called out after me.

"You know you don't owe the Prince anything, don't you, Lady?"

I left.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

I arrived at the palace dishevelled and dirty, still dressed in Emlyn's clothes. "Excuse me," I told the guard by the door. "I need to speak to the Prince."

The guard looked down at me and laughed dryly. "Lad, we don't generally let any old ragamuffin in to see Prince Charmont."

"He is expecting me." I said defiantly. "And my name is Ella."

The guard started. Clearly this name meant something to him. "Ah, well, in that case…" He stepped aside from the gates, and unlocked them. "Through there, and the second chamber on your left. Erm, Miss."

"Thank you," I said, and went where he had directed me. I paused at the door of the chamber, and then knocked.

I heard footsteps before the door opened to reveal Char, who gazed down at me in relief. "Ella!" He cried, leading me inside. "What happened? I can't remember, we were riding away, and then I was just here. It must have been magic."

"I'm free from my curse, Char." I told him, smiling despite myself.

"You… you are?" He was shocked, and I laughed softly at the look on his face. "Ella, that's – that's amazing! You're free – we're free! At last, after all this time!"

He took my hands fervently. "You will be the greatest queen Kyrria has ever known." He swore. "We will rule kindly and well over this Kingdom, making Kyrria the greatest country on this Earth. And we will be happy. Every day, with laughter and love, we will be happy."

"Dearest Char –" I began, but abruptly stopped, as I realised something. I was not happy, but miserable. The words that, just a few months ago, had sprung so joyfully to my lips, now refused to leave my mouth.

I gazed at Char, at his kind, earnest face, and realised that, all along, Emlyn had been right. I did not want to rule over Kyrria. I did not want to remain here for the rest of my days, I wanted to fly free, like a bird. I wanted to spend my days being constantly awed and surprised by mad, magical things. I wanted to have adventures, to _live_.

"Char," I began, my voice quiet. "I am so, so sorry, but I will not marry you."

Char stopped smiling, and his brows drew together. "What? Why not, if you love me?" There was a long pause, and then – "Oh," he whispered.

"There was a time when I loved you with all my heart." I told him passionately. "And I would have done anything, been anything, for you. But I have changed. I am not the same girl you saw feeding the centaur that day. I am different."

Char's hands were balled into fists. "And your loving heart now belongs to another?"

"Char, I –"

"_Tell me."_

"That has no weight upon my decision. I will not marry without love, Char, and in time you would have realised that I cannot be the queen you would want me to be."

Char's lips pressed hard together. "I could wait until you are ready." He said desperately. "Ella, I would wait for you."

But I shook my head. "It is not fair for you to wait for a happening that will not take place." I said. "When I loved you, I was chained. Now I am free, and I need to _be_ free, Char."

He backed away. "You would not wish to give yourself to me?"

"To anyone." I said. "I want to live on my own terms. I know I'm being selfish, Char, but I need to do this for myself. I owe it to myself to win back those stolen years."

"With company?" He asked, jaw clenched.

I was silent for a few moments, then – "Yes. I am sorry, Char, but I am completely, impossibly, _heart-breakingly_ in love with him. He is what I didn't realise I was looking for."

Char turned away from me, bracing his hands against the mantelpiece. "Then I wish you happy." He said through gritted teeth. "Go."

I reached out a hand, dropped it, and left the room, hearing something smash behind me. I single, solitary tear trailed down my cheek. I brushed it away, and ran towards my destiny.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

When I look back on those times now, they seem so much farther away than the mere five years it has been. It seems like someone else's life, someone who never knew there could be so much more.

I never forgot Char – I suppose you can't really forget your first love. He was the one who first lifted me from the dullness of my life, and showed me love. But I walked away from him without regret, and still now I have none.

A year after I left Kyrria that day, Char went out hunting, stumbling across Bomaire once more. There he met a sweet, beautiful, well-meaning girl haunted by the mistakes of her past, who he healed, and who fell in love with him, and he with her, after a time. I'm sure Willow makes a wonderful Princess – after all, the first thing she did as Princess was to convince the King and Queen to lift the bounty on Emlyn's head.

Emlyn and I are about to re-enter Kyrria, to celebrate Char and Willow's coronation. Apparently, the palace was only looking for him in order to tell him he was free! Although we could have returned years ago, we never did. We've been travelling, visiting far off places, seeing wonders I could never have dreamed of.

And still, even now, I have never been more in love.

"Ella!" Emlyn calls me from the other side of the bathroom door of this Kyrrian inn. "How long d'you need?"

"I'm just finished!" I call out to him.

I step out of the bathroom, grinning at Emlyn, seeing as we both know I've been taking far too long just to annoy him.

He looks … roguishly handsome. His dark hair is curling over his ears, while his dark blue coat is open to reveal a fitted beige waistcoat.

"What do you think?" He laughs, catching my look of blatant admiration. "Good enough for you?"

"You look … good." I finish lamely.

"So do you. More, actually, you look … you look beautiful." His eyes are soft, and then he laughs. "I knew you could scrub up well."

"Did you, now?" I shove him playfully in the chest.

"Oh, yes. Master of fashion, me. I think you've got potential, despite the fact that I think this is the first time you've worn clothing designed for women in a while."

"Why is it that the Master of Fashion has committed the outrageous oversight of doing his waistcoat buttons up askew? They could probably have you fined for that where we're going." I giggle when he looks to check his perfectly done up waistcoat.

"Shall we go?"

"Let's." I agree, pulling him to the door.

We walk the mile or so to the Palace in the moonlight over the cobblestones. My dark green dress whispers against my legs, threatening to reveal my boots, which I flatly refused to substitute for some heels. As I said to Emlyn, why suffer?

We finally arrive at the gates, and Emlyn pauses, almost nervously. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes." I say firmly.

"Ella…"

"What? Why have you got your guilty face on?"

"Oh… nothing. Just, er … I can't dance."

I let an involuntary giggle escape me. "Don't worry about it. I mean, I _will_ make you dance, but it's probably best if you don't worry about it."

"Right. Thanks."

He shuffles his feet, looking down.

"It isn't about that bother in Lamstron, is it?" We were previously staying in Lamstron before coming back to Kyrria. It was ruled under a dictatorship, and frankly had some appalling human rights, but Emlyn had insisted going there a) because he wanted to show me the views and b) because he wanted to catch a glimpse of some famous, dragon-calling gem, which was being moved to another safe location.

We'd stood in the crowd to watch it go past, but Emlyn had gone mysteriously missing for a few minutes as it approached, then returned and told me he was bored already, and could we please go.

Now, I say. "Oh, goodness, Emlyn, please tell me you didn't take the gem."

He looks shocked. "Take the gem? Me? What possible purpose could I –"

"Emlyn…"

"No, I didn't take the gem."

"Promise?" I say sternly.

"Gee, look, let's go in, we're late!"

With that, he drags me through the crowd and straight past the queue to the front doors.

"Erm, Emlyn, we can't just skip the line, it's there for a reason."

"Yup. It's there so we can skip it."

We arrive at the doors alongside an old man and a younger, stocky woman with a heavy face. I pause to let them go before me, and as I do, I see the face of the woman more clearly. Olive!

I let out a delighted laugh to see her with who I now realise must be her husband. He must be rich, I muse, to convince Olive to marry him. What a strange way of finding happiness.

Emlyn wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me through the doors.

The hall is just as I remember it when I came here, so many years ago in the guise of Lela. The velveteen draperies are plush, and the hall is decorated here and there with large plinths overflowing with wildflowers.

And there, up on a raised dais, are the Prince and Princess. Willow glows in a long purple gown, her blonde hair cascading down her front like a golden waterfall. She is rocking her youngest child gently on her lap, when she looks up and saw Emlyn.

Willow's eyes widen. Emlyn nods at her, and she smiles tentatively at him, before looking nervously at me. She reaches over and nudges her husband, whispering in his ear. Char looks up in surprise, his eyes raking the crowds before he sees Emlyn and I. He locks eyes with me, then smiles a content smile. I beam happily back at him.

Emlyn lets out a breath. "Well, that's good. I was nervous there was going to be tension."

I giggle. "Let's dance."

Emlyn smiles mischievously, and then led me out onto the dance floor. He puts one hand on my waist, the other in my own, and we begin to dance.

"Emlyn, you said you couldn't dance!" I gasp, as he spins me out elegantly before pulling me back into him.

"It's called modesty." He teases me.

"I'll show you modesty in a minute." I promise him darkly, to which he laughs.

We have just finished our first dance when the ballroom doors are flung viciously open to cries of fear and surprise.

Bursting through the ornate doors are a dozen armoured soldiers, with a brutal looking captain at the helm. My gaze drops to their breastplates, all of which bear the Lamstron coat of arms.

"You _did_ take it!" I exclaim indignantly at Emlyn.

"Well…"

The captain of the troop storms towards Emlyn, while the guests scatter to the sides of the room. Char stands up, regally.

"May I ask," he says coldly. "What you are doing in my throne room?"

The captain turns to address Char. "We have come to seize a thief and a villain, your Majesty!"

"You will do no such thing in my palace!" Char thunders. "Remove yourselves, or my guards will remove you!"

The captain does not look keen on inciting a war with Kyrria. He glares menacingly at Emlyn. "Come outside, _boy._"

Emlyn squares his shoulders and strolls cheerfully towards the doors. "Nice night," he says recklessly. "Why not?"

I hurry along behind him after turning to Char. "I'm so _so_ sorry about him." I say, mortified.

We step outside, and the guards surround us. "Miss," the captain says. "You may leave now, if you wish."

I sigh. "Sadly, I don't wish."

"You will die with him?" The captain asks.

"Oh, probably, yes." I say cheerfully. "But not today. Emlyn?"

"On it," he says, and reaches into his waistcoat, pulling out a beautiful, iridescent blue crystal.

"That's it," the captain breathes. "Men – kill them!"

Emlyn blows gently on the crystal. It lets out the most beautiful sound I had ever heard – a melodic, haunting sound that fills the air around us and sweeps over the hills. Then, from the distance, a beating, thumping noise grows louder and louder.

The soldiers hesitate, unsure of what to do, then let out shouts of fear as, out of the darkness, a gigantic beast reveals itself, beating the air around us so hard that I am nearly pushed to the ground. It settles in the courtyard, while the captain and his men run yelling for cover.

"You're beautiful," I murmur, gazing up at the dragon in awe.

"Why, thank you." Emlyn seizes my hand , and pulled me towards it, tossing me up onto the creature's blue, scaly back, where I settle between two spikes along the ridge of its spine, clinging tightly to the one in front of me as Emlyn scrambles up behind me.

"You idiot!" I shout at him, not wanting him to see how impressed I am. "We didn't even get to the buffet! I'm going to kill you when I get down from he-ARGH!"

The dragon takes flight. I scream in astonishment as the beast flies higher and higher, until the castle looks like an intricate doll's house.

It sweeps us far away from Kyrria, and Emlyn whoops as it carries us away to distant shores. There is still so much to see.

**The End. **

**Before you go, please read this I have loved writing for you guys, and I'm so happy that you've loved reading it. In the end, the audience was split between Emlyn and Char. When I first began this, I said that Ella will absolutely definitely not fall in love with Emlyn. Erm, about that… the more I wrote Emlyn, the more he came alive, and the more I wondered if Ella could ever truly be happy as Queen, with so many responsibilities and so little freedom. I think that Emlyn can give her that adventure, that laughter and that love she needs. **

**Please review, and let me know what you thought, though be nice – what's done is done. If any of you are into Harry Potter (haha, of course you are!) please read my other stories; The Ravenclaw Marauder and Many Wrongs Make Right. I suggest you read them in that order, it'll make more sense. **

**Thank you so much for sticking with me. **

**I love you xx**


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